Montol
by pop-pop-bananas
Summary: Lord Voldemort has finally found what he needs to return to power. Unfortunately, someone else has it... Ginny Weasley. Young Death Eater, Draco, is sent it to kill her and retrieve it. But what if he fell in love? AU. DracoxGinny --- under rewrite
1. Mud, Mould and Magic

_**A/N:**_ Hey, this is my first Harry Potter fan-fic so be nice. –pout- It's DMxGW, with a slight HPxLL and RWxHG. If it's too predictable, please tell me. Thanks!

_**Disclaimer: **_None of these characters are mine, apart from the unimportant people like Jaqi who I just made up on the spot. _Trust me_, I'm not J.K. Rowling – if I was, Lily Evans and Fred Weasley would have survived.

**The Stone Speaks**

**One: Mud, Mould and Magic**

**GINNY**

The sky was bright and sunny – annoyingly so, compared to the filth of the ground. At the horizon, the forest Grim began, and the odd Threstral roamed out, and nibbled at any hunk of grass that dared to attempt growth through the brown slime that covered the field.

A large group of sixth years stood, bored and shivering in the crisp autumn air, in the center of the battlefield, where the three-year-long Goblin Wars had taken place, long ago. Unpleasant splatters of glowing green blood could still be seen, though most of it was gone now, sinking into the mud with the bones and armour.

"And this, here, is where Montol the Great was stabbed…"

It was surprisingly easy to tune out of Professor Binns' droning, Ginny found, and she turned from the group. Professor Umbridge had declared that there should be more practicals and field trips for classes – _anything but learning_, Ginny supposed.

History of Magic was usually taught by Professor Gateshand for the sixth years, but as he had caught spattergroit while visiting his mother in St. Mungo's, they had a new teacher gifted with the powers of sending any student to sleep in five minutes.

Ginny Weasley had turned sixteen a half-month ago, and was revelling in her age. Sixteen was age where you became automatically pretty, cool – sixteen was when you started to have adventures. True enough, she'd had her fair share of adventures by the time she was eleven, but that concept over-looked, she was eager for the fun to begin.

She wandered across the ancient battleground, treading carefully so as not to drop suddenly into a sinkhole. The afternoon light reflected off every pool of water, so that the entire arce of sludge seemed to glow – you had to squint to see the mud-ridden bog it really was.

Ginny hopped nimbly over a puddle, but as she landed, her foot disappeared, and she rolled forwards, tumbling in the dirt. Mud sloshed over her clothes, her face – she was blinded, where was she going..? – and then she skidded to a halt.

She lay, face-down, for a moment, stunned by the cold slime dripping down her body, before sitting up, and spitting out a globule of mud. Ginny wiped her eyes (a little nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother said sharply: "Ginevra, you'll only smear it and make it worse." She ignored this) and blinked clumsily, her eyelashes partly glued together.

Ginny pushed the slimy green mess that had used to be her hair over her shoulders, and peered down for what had happened to abruptly end her bored, mindless walk. She found her leg, disappeared up to the knee, and for one startling moment she panicked, _Omigod, have I stepped on some weird goblin curse and lost my leg?_

Then, however, she felt a suction on the bottom of her allegedly 'hexed' leg, and hauled herself free, blushing at her own stupidity. "Ew," she moaned, flicking beads of filthy water and grime from her school trousers. Ginny puffed out her breath irritably, and as she stood warily, she noticed a glint of black at the bottom of the sinkhole where her leg had just been.

Ginny's eyebrows rose, and she peered down the sinkhole curiously. The black seemed to be smiling at her, beckoning and whispering, _Ginny, rescue me and love me_. She obliged, and, dipping her hand down (a grimace unfolded on her face as she felt the mud try once again to trap her and swallow her alive), retrieved whatever it was that wanted so badly to be found.

It was an amulet. Ginny took hold of the thick silver chain and dangled the pendant down between her fingers. The chain was heavy, suggesting that it wasn't a delicate female necklace, and the pendant on the back was a large, triangular piece of perfectly-cut black onyx, or obsidian – or something like that. It was a man's amulet; just the sort of thing that Ginny adored. However, the necklace cooing to her, _Wear me, Ginny_, unnerved her. The last inanimate object that had spoken to her was the soul of a raving lunatic, who, as she recalled, had tried to possess her.

Ginny decided that she would check it for curses or jinxes when she got back to Hogwarts, and slipped it into her pocket. For now, she trekked back to group, trying to pretend that she wasn't drenched in mud and hadn't disappeared for ten minutes.

As the group headed back towards the Portkey, Luna fell into step beside Ginny. "Hey," Luna smiled, "why are you covered in slime?" Before Ginny could answer, Luna's gaze focused on a cloud, zoning out all other thoughts, and the first girl did not bother to respond.

As they neared the purple cap, lying in a puddle, Ginny's thoughts strayed again to her new accessory. It didn't look dangerous – but there was a feel of immense power glittering in that dark triangle.

Ginny stepped out of the shower, holding the fluffy towel around her. The last of the mud had been scrubbed off, though her skin now seemed to be permanently bright pink from heat and friction. She padded through to the Gryffindor girl's dormitory, slipping slightly as her damp feet skidded on the wood.

"So tell me again where you found this?" Hermione Granger asked, turning the amulet over in her hands. The older Gryffindor was the cleverest girl in the school, and it could be proven by the gold badge she sported, the black letters HEAD GIRL glowing on it. This gave Hermione many privileges – and useful person to have around, as ever.

"In the battlefield of the Goblin Wars. Near where whats-his-face was killed. Mogon. Something like that," Ginny said, squeezing hot shower water from her hair, and pulling on her school uniform.

"Montol," Hermione corrected absently, engrossed in studying the black jewel.

"Whatever," Ginny said. She tugged her school jumper over her head, and patted the untidy blankets of her bed, looking for her wand. _Where __**is**_ _it? _She caught sight of dark wood, and, crowing a triumphant "AHA!", pounced on her wand, and stuffed it in her back pockets. "The point is," she continued, starting to straighten her bed, "that it sort of feels powerful. I'm just thinking that it wouldn't be very smart if I put it on and it…"

Ginny trailed off. She rarely talked about what had happened to totally destroy her first year at Hogwarts. Only one had ever coaxed it out of her, and that had been Harry.

Hermione fell silent too, and Ginny thought, _I hope she understands what that was for me. _No-one understood – not even Harry.

"_No-one wants to be possessed," Harry said warmly. "I know that your angry because you made yourself vunerable and easy to abuse." He hugged Ginny tight. __**No, Harry, actually you're totally missing the point**__she thought darkly._

But that was long ago.

"So," Hermione cleared her throat, easing past the awkward silence, "you just want me to see if it's a Horcrux, a jinx, or something else evil that wants to take over your mind… right?" she asked.

Ginny shrugged, and as Hermione muttered and waved her wand repeatedly, she focused on pulling on her shoes. As she was knotting the laces, something tapped her on the back. She looked up, and saw Hermione.

"Well?" Ginny asked.

"It's all good," Hermione said, "Have fun." She handed the amulet to her friend, and stood. "Sorry to go so early, but I have three feet of Charms prep to do. These NEWTs are so much work, I'm really worried that I might fail Potions. It was always my worst subject, and I get so nervous whenever we have our mock-exams," she said with an exaggerated shudder.

Ginny raised one eyebrow. Hermione, who produced an 'Oustanding' on every exam without fail, was worried that she wouldn't pass the Potions test? Nonetheless, Hermione hurried away, drawing a quill from her school bag. Ginny was left sitting alone on her messy bed, a strange amulet in one hand and a damp towel in the other.

She heaped the towel on her bed, and stood, still staring unsurely at the black amulet. _Hermione said it's safe, so it is,_ Ginny reminded herself, and slid the chain over her head.

Ginny waited. One second… two seconds… three – she hadn't been possessed. She abruptly let go of a breath that she didn't know she had been holding, as a small wave of relief washed over her. She pointed her wand at her hair, murmured, "Flagnio", and, with her hair drying from a thick brown lump to glossy red spilling down her back, left the dorm.

"Ginny," someone called from the red sofa before the fire, waving.

Ginny sat obediently beside Harry Potter – a handsome, brave, intelligient young man, the Boy Who Lived, and, her boyfriend – leaning comfortably against his shoulder. "Hey," she smiled.

Harry grinned down at her, "From what I hear, the trip went – _ahem _– very well… What's this about you returning as the Thing From the Deep?" he teased.

Ginny scowled. "I wasn't that muddy," she protested, folding her arms across her chest.

"She was!" hooted a bossy, irritating Gryffindor girl in Ginny's year, called Jaqi.

"Shut it, Jaqi!" Ginny called across the common room, her annoyance met by giggling and whispered name-calling. She huffed out her breath, and her fingers found the black gem around her throat. Power surged through her, and her mild anger transformed into an unstoppable urge to hex Jaqi into oblivion. Her slim fingers clenched her wand, and she stood, every muscle tense –

"Ginny, what the hell are you doing?"

Harry's incredulous voice shattered Ginny's line of thought, and the young redhead lookly blankly at her boyfriend for a moment, trying to gather her mind again. "Er…" she said, not quite sure of herself. She was vaguely aware that the entire common room was gaping at her, and a hot flush rose high on her cheeks. She dropped back onto the sofa, and allowed her round hazel eyes to meet Harry's wide green ones.

Harry and Ginny sat in silence for a moment, and Ginny suddenly realized how predictable her friend was. Every emotion was out on display in his emerald eyes; he wore his soul on his sleeve. _Now that I think about it_, Ginny said to herself, _Harry is actually an incredibly easy target. It's no wonder that every year he gets himself into a mess and __**we **__have to help him_.

However, these were cruel thoughts, and Ginny pushed them aside. She tore her gaze from Harry, and, with a sigh, stared into the flickering fire, her hands around the amulet, wondering what the hell had happened to her.

**A/N:** Hey, this is my first Harry Potter fan-fic! First chapter wooo. Please review!


	2. The Stone of Montol

_**A/N: **_As you may or may not have noticed, this fan-fic is Harry, Hermione and Ron's seventh year at Hogwarts. Very AU. My apologies.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

_**The Stone Speaks**_

_**Two: The Stone Of Montol**_

_**DRACO**_

With a swirl of green smoke, a tall, lean young man appeared from the empty fireplace. Draco Malfoy dusted his robes off, and stepped away from the hearth, should any other members of the group decide to Floo while he was standing there.

For many years, the Death Eaters had met in Malfoy Mansion, which, highly convenient as it was, had been extremely annoying, to be having lunch when the Dark Lord appears, expecting you to cater to his every need. The Ministry had discovered that this was the hiding place of the Death Eaters, and had stormed it. Luckily everyone had Disapparated (Draco had simply hidden in the kitchen, and then came out, looking surprised, with a glass of orange juice when Mr. Fudge arrived), but the meeting place had to be moved.

Thankfully, Draco could now relax in his own house, as the meetings were now held weekly in the Lestrange castle, in the far North of England. It was far to travel, but it was out of the way. An empty apartment block nearby provided an excellent place to Floo, as it would be highly rude for anyone but the Dark Lord to Apparate or Floo straight into Bellatrix Lestrange's dining room.

Draco smoothed a few strands of platinum blonde hair back, and then walked briskly from the apartment block, his dark robe snapping around his ankles. As he stepped into the lamplight where he could be seen, he flipped his Death Eaters' hood up, then continued, the dim glow of the Muggle street-lamps lighting up his pale face.

He stopped at the grand, iron-wrought gates, with the curving letter L spun into the metal, and pointed his wand at his heart. Then Draco muttered the Death Eater's vow, hating how mere words could ensnare and choke his heart like a boa constrictor. The gates creaked open, welcoming him, and then, as he continued, somewhat nervously, down the winding cobbled path, the gates clanked shut omninously.

Before Draco even reached the oak doors they swung open to let him in, and the whole we-know-where-you-are-at-all-times feel of the castle sent a shiver swooping down his spine. The rest of the Death Eaters were already seated around the fabulous dining table when Draco entered, and the seventeen-year-old slipped into the nearest chair. "I apologize for my lateness, my Lord," he said, curling his fists so as to keep his voice from shaking. The prescence of the most dangerous man alive always unnerved him.

"No matter," Lord Voldemort said coldly, and a fat green snake slithered from around his neck onto the mahogany table, curling up in a loose coil and staring directly at Draco with cruel, beady eyes. "What news is there for me?"

A short, pudgy man cleared his throat. "M'Lord," he said excitedly, "I have news – Potter is back at school."

Lord Voldemort eyed the speaker, as if trying to contemplate if he was serious. "Hogdson, considering that it is September, and Potter has one year left at Hogwarts, then yes, I've already realized where he would be," he said icily.

Hodgson's mouth formed an 'O' of acknowledgment, and looked down at the table shamefacedly. "Sorry, m'Lord," he muttered.

A smirk pulled at Lord Voldemort's lips, but the madman hid it, and glared around at the rest of the Death Eaters. "Anything else? Or are you all such disloyal subjects that you've done nothing for me?" he snapped.

There was a haughty sniff. "These scum may have done nothing towards you, my Lord," declared Bellatrix Lestrange, whose castle it was, "but I have!" She stood, fiercely beautiful with her curly black tresses cascading down her thin back, crossed to where Lord Voldemort sat, looking upon her interestedly, and then she dropped into a bow so low it looked painful to Draco's young eyes.

Lord Voldemort arched one hairless, white eyebrow, and leant back in his chair, stroking the head of his snake, Nagini. "Go on," he said casually.

Bellatrix' breath audibly quickened, and she flexed her fingers in anticipation. "I have found something to help you return to power," she said gleefully. She looked like a small child at Christmas, practically on the verge of bouncing up and down.

Lord Voldemort's attention left Nagini and narrowed his scarlet eyes at his most faithful servant. After a moment of judging her loyalty, "Go on," he repeated, his long fingers leaving Nagini (indignant at being ignored, she slithered back on her master's shoulders).

Bellatrix took a deep breath. "In the Goblin Wars of 1422, Montol the Great was killed. He possessed the Stone of Hladmir. Hladmir was a great Goblin sorceror, many centuries old. He created a Stone, a put all of his powers into it – his ability to stop and control Time, his magic, his Invisibility… and his power to control Death."

"This isn't a history lesson, Lestrange, get on with it!" Lord Voldemort stopped, but the controlling Death part was highly catching his fancy, Draco could tell.

"Montol was relieved of the burden of carrying so much wisdom, and he felt a million years younger. But – if someone else where to find that Stone, they could destroy civilization as we all knew it." (Lord Voldemort's eyes lit up) "So Montol cast it into an amulet, an amulet that he would wear at all times, so that his power never left him.

"In the Goblin Wars, when Montol the Great was killed, the amulet still retained his power. Had Montol left the power in his body, his magical abilities would have disappeared into the mud. However, he didn't, and the Stone of Montol lived on," Bellatrix finished.

A smirk was unfolding on Lord Voldemort's face. "If I were to have the Stone of Montol, I would be immortal," he mused to himself, "I could kill anyone, without even having to try. I could ambush in Invisibility." He looked up, crimson eyes sparkling maliciously. "All I have to do is find the Stone."

Draco frowned. Everyone else might be oblivious to it, but he saw just the _tiniest _flaw in this magnificent plan. "But, my Lord," he interrupted over the quiet chatter of the rest of the Death Eaters, "the battlefield is sunken in mud, and the Goblin Wars were leagues ago. The Stone could be anywhere, across seven acres, up to five miles down under filth, fossils and even stone. Where do you suggest we start looking, exactly?"

Draco hoped that his sarcasm didn't over-rule his sensibility, and lowered his gaze from the Dark Lord's, so as not to seem disrespectful.

A hush filled the room as everyone thought this over. Then Bellatrix burst out in a cackle. "So naïve!" she laughed.

Lord Voldemort, and Draco, and just about everyone else in the room, looked at her inquisitively. "What," Lord Voldemort said dully, "are you on about _now_?" Nagini flared her nostrils at the dark-haired woman, sharing her master's irritation, and flickered her tongue.

Bellatrix grinned evilly. "As it happens, Malfoy, we don't have to look for it."

Draco winced slightly; he had always been Malfoy Junior, or Draco, when Lord Voldemort was in a good mood. His father had been Malfoy, and this name-change cut into the fresh wound in Draco's heart that he was now an orphan. Pushing these matters aside, though, in place of more urgent matters, such as the Dark Lord, he leaned forwards in his chair to find out more.

"And why not?" Lord Voldemort drawled, inspecting his fingers carelessly.

"Because, as it happens, someone else has already found it for us," Bellatrix Lestrange sneered, "and made our job a lot easier."

The Dark Lord steepled his fingers and peered at Bellatrix over the tops of them, in a fashion uncannily similar to Albus Dumbledore, and Draco shivered again.

"And who might this person be?" grunted Macnair, surprising Draco. Macnair usually remained silent for the meetings; he preferred killing people than sitting around discussing the people they had killed, would kill, or wanted to kill.

Bellatrix smiled malovently.

"Ginny Weasley."

_**A/N: **_Oooo the suspense. That was kind of predictable but oh well. Please review!


	3. Surprise

_**A/N: **_As you may or may not have noticed, this fan-fic is Harry, Hermione and Ron's seventh year at Hogwarts. Very AU. My apologies. Also, sorry if it's predictable. Thanks for reviews!!

_**Disclaimer:**_ I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

_**The Stone Speaks**_

**Three: Surprise**

**GINNY**

Ginny sat across from Luna Lovegood, her nose wrinkled in concentration. The Wizard's Chessboard quivered as the many little figurines waited to get going, but Ginn took her time – Luna was ditzy, but surprisingly gooyd at chess.

"Are you ready yet, Ginny?" Luna asked vaguely. It annoyed Ginny to know end how the Ravenclaw girl could think of the right move instantly, yet it took _her _ten minutes, and she _still _lost.

"Give me a minute," the redhead replied between gritted teeth. Then, seeing an escape route, grinned, and told her Pawn: "D7." The Pawn slid oblingingly into its correct place, and swung its sword from its scabbard expectantly.

Luna was looking intently at the door to the library, instead of focusing her attention inside the library, where the chessboard was. Glancing down, and seemingly not paying much attention, she said, "Queen A9. Checkmate."

Ginny gaped as the black Queen swung her throne and knocked off the white King's head. "Not – fair -" she protested, sweeping away the broken pieces and performing the mending charm. "Let's play again, that wasn't fair."

Luna, however, was again staring at the library door, her head tilted slightly sideways so that both of Luna's ash-blonde ponytails were swept over her left shoulder.

"What is even so interesting over there?" Ginny demanded, turning in her seat. And then she saw an unmistakable platinum-blonde head of hair, an unmistakable pale, pointed face – "Malfoy!" Ginny gasped, swivelling back to Luna.

"What about him?" Luna frowned, returning her gaze to Ginny's furious face.

Ginny raised her eyebrows significantly. "Uh, I don't know, maybe the fact that after killing Dumbledore, _he shouldn't be here_! Maybe the fact that he's a _Death Eater_!" she pointed out angrily.

Luna look surprised. "So?" she asked. "Maybe he's had a change of heart and is here to apologize for his wrong-doings," she said dreamily.

Ginny snorted. "Yeah. Right. Or maybe he's here to kill us all," she retorted, and, abandoning all thoughts of Wizard's Chess, grabbed her school things and swept from the room.

As it turned out, the truth veered slightly more towards Ginny's opinion.

Amulet bouncing on Ginny's collarbone, she marched up four flights of stairs to the Gryffindor tower, snapped, "Bowtruckle", and stormed inside.

As expected, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were curled up on the sofa, chatting amiably and basking in the fire's warmth, as autumn was fast setting in. As Ginny entered, Ron and Hermione sprang apart for no apparent reason – Ron nearly landing on Harry's lap – and blushed profusely.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Harry asked, seeing the volcano of emotions hiding in her blazing eyes.

"Malfoy!" she spat out, pointing her finger back towards the painting. "Here! At Hogwarts!"

Hermione paled. "But – but he's a Death Eater!" she cried, standing and backing away from the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, as though Draco Malfoy might burst through at any given moment and murder them all.

Ron, on the contrary, reddened with anger, and leapt to his feet. "Where is he?" he snarled, "I'll rip his throat out, I'll kill him!"

"CALM DOWN!"

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all looked, bewildered, at Harry, who, by now, was standing too, breathing hard.

"Just _calm down_, everyone," Harry said. "Ron. Mione. Sit."

Ron and Hermione sank back onto the sofa, still looking rather panicked/angry. Hermione closed her eyes, muttering jinxes under her breath to protect everyone in the school, and Ron merely sulked in his fury.

"Ginny. Start at the… start. What happened?" Harry asked worriedly.

Feeling her emotions well up again, Ginny recounted the incident in the library again, including being beaten at Wizard's Chess (Ron smirked) and Luna's daydreaming.

"And then I came here," Ginny completed, "to tell you all."

Ron clenched his fists, and Hermione glanced anxiously at Harry, who seemed deep in thought, staring at his hands as though he'd never seen them before.

"Harry?" asked Hermione delicately.

"Luna," Harry said, surprised, looking up with a strange look in his eyes.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny exchanged glances. "No," Hermione corrected, "it's me. Hermione."

Harry jolted back from Dream World, and blinked up at everyone else. "Oh, sorry, I zoned out. What did you say, Mione?" he apologized.

Ginny frowned at him. "What about Luna?" she inquired suspiciously, narrowing hazel eyes to a death stare.

Harry blinked. "Er. Nothing," he said flatly, his eyes glowing with bewilderment and even, for some reason, _guilt_.

"Well, what do you suggest we do, then?" Ron demanded. "Whether or not he's a psychopath loony, I don't really care; what I do care about is why the hell he's here!"

"Why don't we find out?" Hermione smiled wickedly.

Ginny glared at the wall, venting her annoyance on it. Why had she been picked for the first watch, exactly? Oh yeah: _"You're the youngest"_. Wow, talk about military tactics.

She raked her fingers through her hair and tied up the long red tresses, out of her face for the task ahead. Shrugging off her robes, until she was standing in her school trousers and jumper, she tucked away her books and her robes in the narrow corridor from the tapestry on the third floor to the painting on the fifth.

These minor jobs aside, she continued down the slim passageway, careful not to stumble on marble steps, worn by countless footsteps. Ginny reached the fifth floor, and peered out through a carefully drilled hole in the painting. Across the hallway outside was the History of Magic lesson, where Malfoy currently was having a lesson.

There was a great scraping of chairs as approximately thirty seventeen-year-old Slytherins and Hufflepuffs prepared to leave the History classroom. The first to burst through the panelled door was Ernie Macmillan and his friends, eager to be first for whatever class they had next. Hannah Abbott... Pansy Parkinson… some Hufflepuffs and Slytherins fighting… _Malfoy_.

Ginny paused until he was some distance down the main hallway, and then pushed the painting open. She walked slowly, so that Malfoy wouldn't see or hear her if he turned around, ducking behind various pillars and statues.

"-so tell me again, Malfoy, why are you back?" the shrill voice of Pansy Parkinson carried right the way down the hallway, and Ginny picked it up instantly. She moved closer, hiding behind a statue.

"Oh, just… business," Malfoy muttered darkly.

Ginny snorted – too loudly. Malfoy slowed down, and though Ginny could only see his back, she knew he was listening intently. She ducked behind a statue of a gargoyle, and started muttering various random passwords that might cause the statue to open and reveal a tunnel elsewhere.

"Goyle, Crabbe, I'll meet up with you later," Malfoy said, and, without an explanation, turned on his heel and stalked towards Ginny.

_Oh damn oh damnnn_, Ginny's head shouted, and she was mumbling faster, more ridiculous ideas –

"Weasley."

Ginny looked over at Malfoy. "Oh. Hi," she said casually, tucking behind her ear some shorter hairs that had fallen from her ponytail, for want of something to do but look at her nemesis.

"Quit the formalities, Weasley. Why were you following me?" Malfoy demanded, folding his arms.

Ginny pursed her lips, and tilted her head up to stare into Malfoy's face. "Well, _sorr__**y**_but I have my own life and I'm perfectly entitled to walk along this corridor if I want to," she retorted. "And I was _not _following you. Why the hell would I want to? I'm not part of your girly fan-club, Malfoy, incase you haven't noticed."

Malfoy's expression of suspicion changed to one of anger. "I don't have a girly fan-club, Weasley. I'm not an arrogant loser like Potter, you know," he snapped.

"_Hey_. Shut it," Ginny said defensively. "Harry isn't an arrogant loser." Her slim red eyebrows furrowed together angrily, and it was everything she could do not to punch him in the face.

"Why are you even defending him?" Malfoy sneered, "It's not like you even _like _him anymore."

Ginny fell totally silent. How – _how _– did Draco Malfoy know? Hermione didn't know, Luna didn't know, _her mother _didn't know… so how did Malfoy?

"I do!" she said snappily, but her retort was late, and the smirk on Malfoy's cruel face told Ginny that he knew he was correct.

"Just get the hell away from me," Ginny muttered.

**A/N:** Oooooo! Touchy, touchy. Please review!


	4. Voices, Memories

**A/N: **This chapter is really AU. All I have to say. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

**Four: Voices and Memories**

**DRACO**

Draco stared at the green-and-silver curtains, stretched taut across the top of his four-poster bed. It felt strange to be in his old bed after so long, and the curtains around the sides, tightly drawn so that he had a special tent where no-one else could intrude, was so achingly familiar that his heart swelled up two sizes for being back at Hogwarts.

The young man turned over, frowning. Why _had _Ginny been following him? Was it a coincedence that he had been planning to skive off the lesson after History of Magic, to find her – but she had found him. Interesting.

Draco chewed his lower lip. He could have easily killed Ginny, behind the statue, and left her body there for Filch to find. Why hadn't he? Had his conscious suddenly returned?– he doubted that, having never had one. The truth was, he couldn't do it. Draco Ophius Malfoy could not simply raise his wand and murder. That was the Dark Lord's job.

_But you're his __**servant**__, Draco! Grow up, _a little voice in his head argued. Another, however, said, _she's a girl, younger than you, who has never done anything wrong. Lord Voldemort destroyed the end of her childhood, and she was forced to grow up far too soon. Ginny Weasley has some of the world on her shoulders, and she's dealing with far better than I could – far better, even, than Potter could._

Out of a mixture of guilt, cowardice and slight respect, Draco decided against killing her so soon. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was past one in the morning, and this realization forced a yawn out of his mouth.

The voices in his head weren't done, though, and before he succumbed to sleep, he wondered, _What is Ginny short for?_

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

The morning sunlight managed to push through Draco's thick curtains, spilling onto a pale, sprawled out body, who twitched and moan at the sudden light. "Go 'way," he murmured, burying his face in his pillow.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Vincent Crabbe ripped open the curtains around Draco's bed and stared at him.

Draco squinted at the overweight boy who had once been his companion. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he snapped, sitting up and crossing to his trunk. He pulled on his robes, stuffed his wand in his pocket, smoothed back his blonde hair, and then dodged around Crabbe and Goyle to get out of the Slytherin common room, away from the staring eyes, away from everyone.

He hurried up the cold, slate steps from the dungeon, emerging on the left side of the Entrance Hall, and then continued to the Great Hall. As he entered, a burst out babble and chatter and clanking cutlery met him. Draco scanned the Slytherin table for somewhere that he could sit alone without being bothered – he hated walking up and down the table looking for a good place, so he decided from the door – and selected a vacant seat next to a loud, bossy third-year girl, when someone barged into him.

"Oh, sorry," Ginny said, and then she saw who she had hit. Her hazel eyes narrowed dangerously, looking up at Draco until he felt uncomfortable. The top of her hair was tied up, and the rest flowed around her shoulders, constrating sharply and brightly against the black of her robes.

Draco then noticed the Stone. It was hanging around her throat, partly concealed by her shirt collar, but most of it was glinting in the sunshine (from the enchanted ceiling and windows) so that the combination of amulet and hair dazzled him.

There was a silence as Ginny stared into Draco's eyes, hazel into blue, forest into sea. Then she unexpectedly snapped, "_Omi__**god**_what is your problem? Your just standing there looking at me, you freak."

"I was actually here first, so I can look at whoever I damn well please," Draco growled, his fists tightening into balls.

Ginny rolled her eyes, outlined in grey pencil, in a I-don't-care gesture, and then spun, fiery hair flying out, marching towards the Gryffindor table. Draco watched her storm away and sit between Harry and Hermione.

_How dare she treat me like that, _Draco fumed, _after all that she's done to me. She should have respect for me – it's the least she could do after… _Draco's line of thought dribbled away, and he shut his mind from memories, but they came, faster than he was prepared for them.

_Diagon Alley, a fight, air hot with jinxes and hexes, shouting everywhere. Death Eaters trying to kidnap Ron Weasley as bait for Harry. The Weasleys, Bellatrix Lestrange's niece, Potter, Granger, all fighting. Draco pushed aside: "You're not old enough, son. Get to safety!"_

"_I want to stay, father!" Draco roared, drawing his wand and brandishing it at Bill Weasley and his wife, a pretty Veela._

"_DRACO!" Lucius bellowed. The man's attention changed from the battle to his son, and then the curse hit._

_An explosion. Fire. Smoke. Shouts. "Nice one," Fred called. Ginny, standing, shocked, wand pointed at the Death Eaters, smoke coming from it. The Weasleys, Nymphadora Tonks, Potter and Granger fled._

_Draco calling out. "Mother? Father?" A horrible silence, can't see anything but smoke. Sees a limp body – two. Lucius Malfoy, the anger at his son still etched on his face. Narcissa Malfoy, panick in her expression, tears on her dead features. Both are cold, lifeless. "Ginny Weasley," Draco whispers angrily. Tears…_

Draco's eyes grew hot and thick with tears, and he realized that people were looking at him oddly. He sat down at his table, eating as much toast as he could get away with before people starting whispering about him being greedy.

A laugh met his ears, from across the hall, and Draco glanced up. Five people had stood and were leaving the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron were arguing, as ever – it wasn't them. Harry, Luna and Ginny were laughing together – how odd. Harry was laughing, teasing, smiling, radiating happiness… to Luna, not, as it would be expected, to Ginny, his girlfriend. Harry's arm was around her waist, but Ginny looked quiet, contemplative, and even a little left out.

How very odd indeed.

**A/N: **Let's play the "Who Does Harry Fall In Love With" Game!! Oh, who can guess? P


	5. Invisibility and Other Dark Arts

**A/N: **This chapter is really AU. All I have to say. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

**Five: Invisibilty and Other Dark Arts**

**GINNY**

Ginny stared at the door to the Entrance Hall. There was nothing particularly interesting about it, but it was easier to look at the door than at her friends. Seeing Ron and Hermione hurt; they always fought, but their care for one another was astounding. Seeing Harry and Luna hurt even more; Harry had never looked that way at Ginny. He had admired her, respected her, thought that she was pretty… but who was she kidding? He didn't _love _her. He never had, and never would. Sometimes Ginny just wished that her Prince Charming would hurry up and find her.

Ginny tugged away from Harry. She knew that he would be hurt and confused, but she honestly didn't care. If he wanted a cuddle, then he could cuddle Luna for God's sake.

"Gin," Harry said, "what's wrong?" His green eyes scanned her face, making her feel like she was sick, or unwell, and should be looked after. It infuriated her.

"I'm _fine_! Will you lay off a bit?" she snapped, sore about Luna, and her fingers found the amulet –

"Ginny?!" Harry gaped. "Ginny!" he shouted, causing Ron and Hermione to look back.

"Ron, Mione, _Ginny's gone_!" he cried, looking around desperately.

Ginny stared at her boyfriend. _Is this a __**joke**_She then glanced down, and received the shock of her life when she discovered that she was GONE. "What – the – bloody - hell -" she gasped, stumbling away from her friends. "I'm – I'm – invisible!"

"Ginny!" Ron bellowed. "If you're here, tell us!" He was flailing his arms around, as if trying to catch her.

Ginny opened her mouth to aware them of where she was, but stopped when she saw Malfoy watching them intently. Unsure why, she turned, and fled up the grand staircase.

Her footsteps were light, but they still caused other students to frown and look for the source of the noise. She wheeled around a corner, heading towards the nearest girl's bathroom to see what on _earth _was happening to her.

Ginny saw the door to the bathroom, and she turned to it, and then saw Malfoy, standing in the doorway.

"Hello Weasley," he said boredly, examining the left sleeve of his robes. He didn't look up at her, only moved his examination to his other sleeve.

Ginny gasped, rather like a dying fish. "You – you –" she spluttered, her jaw dropped and almost touching the floor in shock. "You can _see _me?"

"No, actually, I can't," Malfoy said dryly, and it was now that he looked up. Ginny understood that he was looking where he guessed her face to be, but it was slightly strange having someone stare at your ear. "But I know that you're there."

"How?" Ginny said guardedly, though a little curiosity couldn't be hidden. "I'm invisible," she added, in case he had forgotten somehow.

"No, really?" Malfoy said sardonically. "I hadn't noticed! It's quite simple, Weasley – I come out of the Great Hall, your little gaggle of friends are shouting: 'Ginny's gone', and if you listen carefully you could hear tiny footsteps. I presumed that you hadn't done this before, couldn't believe what was happening and would soon run to the nearest female bathroom to see if you were still visible."

"But… but … why am I invisible?" Ginny said, trying to sound brave, but she was quite fearful of what was happening.

There was a terse silence, as though Malfoy _knew _something but didn't want to let on. Then he said, "I don't know… what's that necklace you're wearing? It's nice."

Ginny made an angry noise. "Malfoy! Now is not the time to be _flirting _with me! I'm _invisible_!" she snapped, her hand tightening around the necklace.

Malfoy's eyes widened at the accusation, and his ears flushed pink. "I am not flirting with you," he said flatly, "and as it happens, your problem is already solved. Look down."

Ginny glanced towards the ground, and saw her feet. "I'm – HERE," she whooped, causing some first years to huddle together nervously.

"Well done, Weasley," Malfoy said sarcastically, clapping his hands slowly to emphasise his mockery.

Ginny turned on him. "Malfoy, can you ever be nice or happy about anything? Tell me, do you stay up late each night and actually _practice _the whole jackass routine, or does it just come naturally?" she said heatedly, feeling warmth rise in her face until she knew that her cheeks must be glowing scarlet.

A stunned look crossed Malfoy's face, and then his face darkened like a stormy sea. "I hardly think you're one to talk, Weasley," he hissed, in a low, dangerous tone, "I may act annoying, but at least I've never killed anyone!"

_Did his voice just shake? _Ginny thought incredulously. _No, I must have imagined it._ She glared menacingly. "Well that will all change soon, won't it? I daresay all of his servants murder now or then," she snarled.

Malfoy's reaction was devasting, and Ginny knew instantly that her last retort had been way below the belt, but she didn't care. She met his shocked, ice-blue eyes with a death stare, before swivelling, and storming away, half-petrified as she walked that he would curse her from behind.

But he didn't, and as she turned the corner, Ginny could have sworn she saw him sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his knees tucked up, looking like he might be sick.

Ginny sat in a dark corner of the library, not in a chair, simply sitting cross-legged on the rough carpet. She had lit the Lumos charm to give her enough light to read, and that was basically all she needed.

She was in her favourite part of the library (the Dark Arts. She sometimes longed that she could become Head Girl next year, after Hermione, so that Ginny could have access to the Restricted Section and read the really dark books, but that would be impossible) with a book open in her lap, reading calmly, pushing all thoughts of Malfoy out of her head.

Something stepped in front of Ginny, blocking much of her reading light, from where her wand was hovering. She looked up irritably, and found herself staring at a boy. "Harry?" she asked, squinting past her wand's light to see who it was.

"No," the Something said softly, clenching his hands anxiously and sighing.

Ginny's eyes narrowed as she vaguely recognized the voice – she Summoned her wand, and pointed the light away from her eyes. Then her theory was confirmed as she gazed up at Malfoy. She frowned. "What are you doing here?" she sighed; she couldn't be bothered to concentrate on always having a retort ready.

Malfoy looked terribly uneasy, and he shifted from side to side awkwardly. He coughed slightly, as if he didn't know where to start, and then mumbled, "You know I've never killed anyone…" There was a slight pause as he tried to gather the courage to call her Ginny, but couldn't, and left it.

Ginny frowned. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, but if I recall correctly, you _have_," she replied brusquely. "Remember a little something that happened in the divination tower?"

Malfoy paled. "Weas-Gin- that wasn't me," he cried. "I didn't do it. Professor Snape did."

Ginny stared. "_Snape_? Killed? Dumbledore?" she said, horrified. "But- he's still teaching at school! He could kill someone!"

Malfoy scowled. "He's not going to," he muttered darkly. "I'm beginning to regret coming to apologize…" He said the last part so quietly that Ginny nearly missed it, but she caught the words.

"Malfoy, I think you've forgotten that you haven't actually apologized yet," Ginny pointed out irritably.

Malfoy reddened. "_O_**kay**," he snapped. "O-kay. I meant to, and that's the whole point. How easy do you think this is for me, huh? Going up and apologizing to a younger girl in Gryffindor who ki-" Malfoy stopped abruptly, his words lost, and stared at the floor. "It's not easy."

Ginny looked at Malfoy contemplatively, her eyebrows furrowing together in thought. _I shouted at him, insulted him, and struck out at him for being a Death Eater – and instead of hexing me where I stand… he comes and apologizes to me_. Ginny found this slightly bizarre, but shrugged it away, and tried to think of something nice and meaningful to say to Malfoy before he slunk away, but she was quite stuck. _Er… _"I know it isn't," Ginny murmured, all that she could think of.

The Slytherin looked down and met Ginny's gaze. Then his blue eyes flickered downwards and fell on her book. "What are you reading?" he asked interestedly.

Ginny flushed a hot, embarrassed pink. "Nothing," she said hastily, snapping the book shut and sitting on it. "None of your business." She was being blunt and rude, and considering that Malfoy was starting to be friendlier, she felt mean, but no-one in the _world _knew about her love and obsession with the Dark Arts – and she didn't want her little secret-keeper to be Draco Malfoy.

**A/N:** Yes, Ginny Weasley is dabbling in Dark Arts, and we'll find out why laterrr…


	6. A Terse, Tense Jackpot

**A/N: **This chapter is when Draco starts to realize that despite her killing his parents, Ginny isn't all that bad… Oooo.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Six: A Terse, Tense Jackpot**_

_**DRACO**_

Draco leant back against the wall with a sigh, setting his quill down. It was an expensive gold-lined eagle feather that had used to be his father's, and he didn't use it often. He packed away his quill and inkpot, and then picked up his sheet of parchment; he gave a low whistle. "Wow, that is a _lot _of homework," he said.

Ginny looked over, and raised her eyebrows. She didn't comment on the amount of writing, she just observed, "Your handwriting is very small", and then returned to her book.

Draco frowned as he watched her read, her hazel eyes dancing across the page as she absorbed the text, the shorter strands of her red hair falling in front of her face like silky fire. She was totally focused on the book, her mouth whispering the words she read slowly as each sentence sunk into her quick brain.

"You're not very sociable when you're reading, are you?" Draco inquired, rolling up his Herbology homework and tucking it into his schoolbag.

Ginny glanced up again, a confused frown on her face. "No-one is. Generally, it's expected that people don't talk while they're reading," she pointed out, a little acid in her tone, though Draco knew she was teasing when the corner of her mouth pulled slightly higher than the other in a smirk.

Draco shrugged. He had asked to sit with her in library – she could continue to read her book while he did his Herbology homework – and had thought that, considering the argument they had shared less than an hour ago, they were getting on quite well.

However, something was preying at the back of his mind. A tiny reminder of why he was at Hogwarts – to kill Ginny. It wouldn't be very good to befriend her, or he might do something stupid, like try to save her, or sacrifice himself to Lord Voldemort in her place.

"What are you doing?" Ginny's voice cut through Draco's thoughts, and he turned to her. She was looking at him curiously. "You're squinting weirdly and totally oblivious to the world around you."

Draco shrugged again, and stood up, dusting his hands on his robes. "My break's nearly over," he muttered, "I have to go to class."

Ginny nodded, and started getting up. Draco didn't know why, but for some reason his stuck his slim, pale hand out to her, as an offer to help her up. The Gryffindor stared blankly at his hand, and then, shooting him a furtive glance, got up by herself.

Draco felt slightly abashed at having his help rejected. "Uh. See you," he said lamely after a moment's silence, and then walked away. He already felt a slight attachment forming to Ginny, and realized that he had to be meaner to her, or he wouldn't be able to kill her.

Memories of their conversation flashed back to Draco: "_I may act annoying, but at least I've never killed anyone!"_

"_Well, that will all change soon, won't it? I daresay all of his servants murder now or then."_

"_You know I've never killed anyone."_

Draco had known instantly when Ginny said 'his servants' who 'he' was. The Dark Lord. No-one outside of the Death Eaters had ever confronted him about it before, and the thought of Ginny's blazing face shouting at him about his being a Death Eater made him extremely uncomfortable and upset – memories of curling up in the boy's bathroom crying, last year, came back to him suddenly.

Draco thought over his sincere "You know I've never killed anyone", and saw how close he had coming to telling his worst fears to his nemesis. His terror at the fact that Lord Voldemort was quickly gaining trust in him, and soon it wouldn't be long until Draco was sent to murder. After that, it wouldn't stop. Draco Malfoy would be a cold murderer, punishable by Azkaban, killing many people. It was this that often prevented sleep at many a night.

Draco shuddered, pushed his contorted feelings to the back of his mind, and hurried towards Herbology. He hadn't told Ginny why it was so urgent that he finish his homework – she'd disapprove, he knew it.

Taking a short-cut (pressing the nose of Rona the Ridiculous and being transported to the front of the Hogwarts building), he arrived quickly at the Herbology greenhouses, but was still late. "Sorry, Professor," Draco drawled with a smirk, returning to his old personality so as not to raise suspicion, and dropped into a seat beside Pansy Parkinson.

"Malfoy, where'd you go?" Pansy purred, leaning her pudgy chins in her hands and gazing at him dreamily with small, fish-like eyes.

"Hmm?" Draco asked distractedly. He heard her repeat herself, but didn't really notice. He half-listened to Professor Sprout, not really taking her instructions into his head – he wasn't surprised when the dying Bubotuber he was supposed to heal exploded in his face.

"ARGH!" he shouted, slapping his hands to his face. It – _burned _– "Oh, hell!" Draco tightened his hands into fists so tight that his fingernails dug into the soft flesh of his palm, nearly biting his tongue off to stop himself screaming like a girl.

"Draco!" Pansy shrieked, flapping her fat arms frantically. Harry and Ron were collapsed on the table laughing ("Damn them," Draco choked past his swollen tongue, bitterly), whilst Hermione looked on worriedly.

"Mr. Malfoy, what _have _you done?" Professor Sprout yelled frustratedly. "I told you not to…" Her voice ranted on and on… Draco gave a shallow moan and keeled over the desk; pain pain pain pain pain –

"Ms. Granger, will you kindly take Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing?" Professor Sprout tutted. "Hurry now. And be warned – undiluted Bubotuber pus, when they are sick as they are now, causes you to act similar to the way one might _drunk_."

"Just my luck," Hermione sighed, but she stood and crossed to Draco. "Come on Malfoy, get up," she grunted, hauling him to his feet.

Ron turned purple angrily and leapt to his feet. "Don't touch her!" he yelled warningly across the greenhouse, pointing his finger accusingly at Draco.

"Mr. Weasley, I see no reason for you to be acting in such a childishly defensive manner. Mr. Malfoy is _ill _and will be treated when he reaches the Hospital Wing, though I must say I admire your chivalry towards dear Ms. Granger. Now, _sit down_, and continue to tend to your Bubotuber plant! Let Mr. Malfoy's injury be a warning to you all!" Professor Sprout called, fixing her hat atop her fly-away hair.

Hermione dragged Draco towards the school doors, breathing heavily under the boy's weight. "Hell, you're heavy," she breathed, shifting his arm better across her shoulders.

"Weasley," Draco suddenly moaned, his eyes flickering open.

Hermione blushed. "Professor Sprout was being daft, Malfoy. Ron doesn't fancy me, and I don't fancy him!" she hissed, feeling resentful towards the Slytherin.

"Where is she?" Draco groaned, slumping on Hermione.

"_She_?" Hermione asked incredulously. "No, Malfoy, Ron is a – wait, _Ginny_?!" She shook her head in disbelief, her brown curly ponytail sliding over her left shoulder. "You. Want. _Ginny_?"

"Gin…" Draco slurred, "Tell 'er she's… ugh… mother… no… killed… Diagon… no…" With that, he keeled over and started to snore heavily, whimpering on each intake of breath.

"God, you're lucky we're close to the Hospital Wing when you fell asleep. You are _not _going to drool on me," Hermione told the sleeping Draco. Then realization struck her, "What about Diagon Alley?" she demanded. "Who did she kill? Ginny didn't kill anyone!"

Draco didn't respond, but Hermione knew she'd hit the jackpot to his terse, tense feelings.

_**A/N:**_ And no, I haven't just mispelt 'tense' twice. Though I have to say that it sounds a bit cheesy… Oh well. –shrug-


	7. A Piece of His Heart

**A/N: **This chapter is my favourite so far. This for Ocey. ily 3

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Seven: A Piece of His Heart**_

_**GINNY**_

"Take three steps back… bow…"

Defence Against the Dark Arts was proving interesting today. Professor Tonks had set up a duelling class (under Headmistress Umbridge's toady nose, of course) so that they could get the hang of fighting.

Ginny turned, marched away smartly down the duelling stage, and spun, her hair spinning out in a flourish. Her round hazel eyes never leaving Colin Creevey, she bent low, and then straightened up again, her wand held steady before her nose. Colin followed suit, a grin plastered on his childish features.

"Now."

Before Colin could blink, Ginny's wand had whipped away from her face, twirling, jabbing outwards: "Expelliarmus!" she shouted.

Colin yelped, alarmingly high-pitched, and squeaked, "Protego!" at the last second. The spell bounced off, and several members of the student audience screeched and ducked. Colin laughed hysterically, narrowing his eyes teasingly at Ginny.

"Bring it," she hissed across the stage.

Colin laughed, and twirled his wand, with his blue eyes dancing – light blue eyes, so pale that they were like ice, surprisingly similar to Draco Malfoy's eyes. During this distraction, Ginny suddenly realized that a jet of indigo magic was heading towards her.

"Prote -" Ginny started to holler desperately, and then she was flying backwards, her vision lit up by blue-purple light. She spun, flinging her arms out, and then there was a sickening crunch as Ginny landed on her arm. "_Crap_!" she shouted, not caring that she was swearing in front of a teacher.

"_Omigod_!" a girl screamed as Ginny sat up, and Colin grew visibly whiter. "It's not _there_ anymore!"

"Ow." Ginny's sight blurred. She saw Professor Tonks, her hair a vivid shade of panicky orange, and the class was crowding around her.

"Oh, gross!" a boy jeered, pulling a disgusted face. "Can I poke it?"

"_No_!" Professor Tonks cried, horrified. "Ginny, oh dear, oh no, Ginny, go to Madam Pomfrey. I think you've broken your wrist and your nose is – is – well. It's not very pretty."

Luna pulled Ginny to her feet and escorted her to the end of the Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor, before returning to the duelling classroom.

Ginny stumbled blindly down the stairs, her lower left arm throbbing with every heartbeat, her face feeling oddly empty. As she turned through the door to the Hospital Wing, she caught sight of herself in the over-polished marble-tiled floor.

She recognized the round eyes and the mane of crimson hair, but there was a large, smooth, rather revolting space in the middle of her face where her nose should have been. "Ew," Ginny gasped, as though she were talking about someone else and not herself. She hurried to the Hospital Wing a lot faster now.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Ginny called as she entered. Her voice sounded very flat without her nose. "I've broken my wrist – and a friend accidentally cursed my nose off," she explained unblushingly. "A bit silly, really."

The small, portly woman chuckled. "Oh dear, Ms. Weasley. Come along, come along." They headed towards a bed, and Ginny lay down on it. She gazed blankly at the high ceiling while Madam Pomfrey fussed over her wrist; occasionally Ginny would wince and yelp, making the elderly matron jump.

"Well, Ms. Weasley, I've almost fixed up your wrist," said Madam Pomfrey, "but I'll have to mix you some potions – one to mend your bones, and another to re-grow your nose."

Ginny nodded weakly, and watched with growing dread as the school nurse mixed various body parts of dead amphibians into a cauldron; Madam Pomfrey's potions were not famed for their taste. Finally the matron bustled over, humming cheerfully and holding a class of steaming lavender liquid.

"Do I have to?" Ginny moaned, but before the last syllable even left her lips, the scalding potion was forced between her lips and searing its way down her throat. "Aaaahhhh…" she complained, shivering as bouts of heat and cold struck her one by one – hot, cold, hot, cold, hot…

And then the world went dark.

The sun was setting as Ginny opened her eyes. A vile taste was still on her tongue from the potion, and she gagged for a moment or two before reluctantly swallowing the flavour and sitting up.

She flexed her wrists a few times – her wrist was better, she noticed – and then gingerly felt the center of her face. A familiar ridge met her fingertips, and a grin broke out on Ginny's face as she rubbed her nose, happy that it was back. She noticed that it was slightly bent (maybe where the curse hit it), but it was better to have a bent nose than no nose at all.

"Ohh, that hurts," someone groaned faintly, down on the other side of the Hospital Wing.

Curious, Ginny climbed out of bed and tiptoed down the hall. She saw numerous first- and second-years sleeping contentedly, with tear-stricken faces (homesickness), boils (first duels), or bruises and cuts (general scraps with the other kids), but continued.

Ginny saw that a privacy curtain had been set up around the source of the noise, and felt slightly guilty at prying, but it was washed away quickly by curiosity, and she drew the curtains back.

"Who's that?" the person in bed demanded. "Madam Pomfrey?" From the dying rays of light pushing through the curtains, Ginny could see a pale, pointed face and tousled blonde hair. Blue eyes glowed at her in the gloom, reminding Ginny why it was that she had been injured in the duel.

"Malfoy?" Ginny asked, frowning.

"No, that's _my _name," Malfoy drawled. "If you recall, I asked for _yours_." A faint, blonde eyebrow raised, and then dropped suddenly as he peered at her. "Weasley?"

"First prize," Ginny smirked, stepping fully through the curtain. Her toes suddenly moved from the cold tiles to the warm, grey carpet that surrounded the beds, and glanced down happily. She finally noticed the loose, satin, black-and-orange polka-dotted pyjama trousers and baggy black T-shirt with a pumpkin on. Red rose in her cheeks until her face nearly matched her hair, and she hugged herself to try and push down her embarrassment at her childish pyjamas.

"Oh, how sweet, Weasley, did you come to see poor, sick, ole' me?" Malfoy grinned. "I'm touched." He put a hand to his heart.

Ginny snorted. "Yeah," she said sarcastically, trying to hold back her laughter. Ginny Weasley, come to visit an ill _Malfoy_? Right. "Don't flatter yourself. I took a nasty turn in Defense Against the Dark Arts." She shuddered mockingly.

"Tell me more," Malfoy smirked, sounding highly amused.

"Well. I just sort of broke my wrist. And… and got my nose hexed off," Ginny muttered the last part, feeling stupid. True to his comforting self, Malfoy burst out laughing. Ginny pouted. "Oi," she said irritably, "selfish. You try some sympathy."

"Sympathy?" Malfoy echoed incredulously. "_Moi_? Sorry, Weasley, wrong Hospital Wing."

Ginny shrugged her shoulders delicately. "I might have known," she said. "What happened to you?"

Malfoy glowered. "A sick cactus exploded on me," he said darkly, "in Herbology. And I got covered in ill, undiluted pus."

Ginny bit her lower lip to hold back a snigger. "Oh dear," she said mournfully. "What a shame." Malfoy looked up at her and saw the teasing smile pulling at her lips, and a half-smile flickered across his face before disappearing moodily again.

"Ah, cheer up, Malfoy." The words left Ginny's lips before she even realizing that she was saying them, and how nice she was being. She ducked her head so that her hair swung in front of her burning face.

"Easier said than done," Malfoy snapped, retreating into a defensive shell. "Why don't you try being covered in great, hideous boils, being kicked off the Slytherin team because they're all scared of being killed during a match, being ignored everywhere you go, and having everyone in the school absolutely hate you. Why don't you try it? Why don't you try being destroyed on the inside by the most evil man on the world, why don't you try having your parents killed, and the last word you ever said to your mother as: "I don't care"? Why not, Weasley? Are you scared? _Are you?! _Then what a fool you must be, to wear your emotions like a scarf, on display for the world to see."

Ginny stared at Malfoy. She'd never heard him confess to anything, especially not to being scared. She, again, didn't know what to say. The quiet, sarky, I-won't-tell-you-anything, friendless, allegedly emotionless Death Eater known as Draco Malfoy had just opened his chest and given her a piece of the little heart he had, and she longed to repay him in some way, and let him know that he wasn't alone, but she didn't know how.

_**A/N:**_ And so, the plot unravels, deepens, and twists… Loads of love to reviewers, thank you! You rock my socks! 3


	8. Heroism, Or Lack Thereof

**A/N: **This chapter isn't very xGinny. It also gives you a glimpse into the _real_ Lavender Brown. THANK YOU SO MUCH to reviewers. I love you guys! –hug-

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Eight: Heroism, or Lack Thereof**_

_**DRACO**_

Draco opened his eyes. Morning light was flooding in, and the after-effects of his potion were making his head feel light and woozy. He tried to remember what had happened… why was he in the Hospital Wing?

"_Now, remember, __**do not **__squeeze the Bubotuber. It will explode, and have a very bad reaction with human skin," Professor Sprout said…_

_Draco's hands tightened around the Bubotuber…_

_**Bang**__. Pain. The Granger girl, helping him up the stairs…_

"_No, that's __**my**__ name," Draco drawled. "If you recall, I asked for __**yours**__." He stared through the half-darkness and saw a small, slim figure wearing black, and familiar red hair. Shocked…"Weasley?"_

"_Are you scared? __**Are you?!**__ Then what a fool you must be, to wear your emotions like a scarf, on display for the world to see," Draco snarled, balling his hands tight. Ginny stared at him, stunned, for a long time, and then abruptly stood. She seemed unsure of herself, and then reached over – what little light there was sparkling on the Stone of Montol and in her large eyes – and rested her hand briefly on his fisted one, before turning and leaving with a quiet, "'Night, Malfoy."_

Draco groaned and rolled onto his stomach, burying his head in his pillow. He had told Ginny too much. Far, _far_ too much. She'd probably tell all of her little friends – Potter, Granger, that peculiar Lovegood girl, and her unpleasant brother, Ronald, with whom Draco had shared a particular dislike. Then again, however, this was a whole new Ginny that he was seeing; a nice, friendly Ginny.

The touch of her hand of his suddenly came back to him, and, to Draco's own disbelief, pink rose in his cheeks. He shook his head wildly, causing his already-mussed hair to fall out of place even more, and he raked a hand through it.

Madam Pomfrey entered through the curtains, and Draco sat up eagerly. "Can I go?" he inquired brightly.

Madam Pomfrey chuckled. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, let's just see if you're fit to go first," she told him, and she dabbed a hot cloth on his forehead. She dropped the cloth into her cauldron, and said clearly: "Ivangeo." A huge haze of shimmering pearly steam swirled upwards, and the cauldron spluttered; Draco and Madam Pomfrey stared inside once it had stopped smoking and squeaking. The liquid, which had first been clear, was now a shade of green that Draco secretly admired.

"Well, the potion says you're all set… say 'Ah'," Madam Pomfrey commanded, and when Draco did as instructed, the chubby matron peered inside his mouth. "Yes, you're good."

Draco forced out a smile and a polite thank-you, before climbing out of the bed, slipping into his shoes, and sweeping through the curtains. As he made his way towards the door, his ice eyes scanned every bed, telling himself that he was just curious which first-years had hurt themselves in the first month, but knowing in his heart the head of scarlet that he was looking for.

The blonde seventeen-year-old reached the door without finding her- _without finding any first-years, I mean_, Draco hastily corrected himself – and presumed that she-_they – _had left earlier. He heaved a small sigh, and jogged down the stairs.

As he headed down flight of stairs after flight of stairs to get to the dungeon so that he could collect himself, Draco had a panic attack. _What day is it? Do I have a class or a break now_? To answer these questions, he needed his school bag, which was, unfortunately, as far away from the Hospital Wing as it was possible to get (save for perhaps Hagrid's Hut or elsewhere outside), in the Slytherin common room.

Draco ducked through a hidden tunnel, and stepped out into the cold, slightly clammy air of the dungeons, and made his way deeper to the bust of Salazar Slytherin that he knew so well.

"Pureblood," Draco told it, and, for some reason he did not understand, the password unnerved him and made him feel slightly uncomfortable. The bust ducked down, sliding under a hidden iron grate, and the wall behind it slid open, revealing a dark, green-themed common room.

Draco stepped over the bust and held the wall open while he quickly retrieved his bag from beside the hearth – where Professor Snape always left abandoned bags from his house members – and then burrowed through the contents of it to locate his timetable.

"First class," Draco muttered, tracing the table with his finger, "Double potions." Realizing how lucky he was that the class he was already ten minutes late for was in the dungeons, Draco hurried up the stairs to the higher level of the dungeons, where the advanced potions classroom sat.

He flung the door open and found every pair of eyes trained on him. Granger and Potter were hunched together at the back, and, upon seeing him, began whispering hurriedly. Their secrecy always annoyed him greatly; today more than ever.

"Sorry I'm late," Draco called, bowing his head briefly to Professor Snape, and slid into the nearest seat, beside a Gryffindor girl who he didn't remember being in his class before. Nonetheless, she wrinkled her nose and shifted sideways, away from Draco, so she knew him, and who everyone thought him to be.

"No matter," said Professor Snape silkily. "I will not deduct any house points from Slytherin due to your tardiness," several Gryffindors gasped and began to protest furiously, "SILENCE – because I know that you were residing in the Hospital Wing at the time that class began. Open your potions book to page 381, Mr. Malfoy, and study the ingredients needed for the Draught of Heroism. You'll be making it during the lesson; with_out_ your books."

Someone near the back grumbled something about Professor Snape, followed by a hissed reprimanding – Granger and Potter, no doubt. Draco scowled, and focused on the book.

_**The Draught of Heroism**__ is a strong, tricky potion, only to be attempted by the advanced. When taken, it makes the drinker feel invincible and capable of anything – often to both positive and negative results._

_**Ingredients**_

_Bezoar Stone, powdered_

_Wormwood, finely sliced_

_Unicorn Blood_

_Loran's Leopard-Orchid Solution_

_Water……_

Draco re-read the list of twenty-seven ingredients again, before scribbling it down hurriedly in the back of his potions notebook (_I'll copy it out neatly later_, he promised absently, half-knowing that he'd probably forget) before starting to memorize the procedure. It was fairly complicated, and the only person to finish learning the theory on the Draught before Draco was Granger.

"Class," Professor Snape barked. "Stop that chatter, and close your books." There was a general snapping and rustling sound throughout the chamber as everyone closed their books reluctantly, and, with a sweep of the Professor's wand, thirty battered or brand-new textbooks flew towards Snape's desk and piled themselves there neatly. "Begin."

Draco stood, and moved quietly to the less-used store cupboards. They weren't used as much as the main cupboards because strange green goo dripped from every shelf, appalling most students and teachers into staying away, but Draco felt that perhaps this year he would prefer to risk the slime than he included in the crowd bustling around the main cupboards.

He retrieved his ingredients, and set them down on his table. Going over the method in his head, he pointed his wand at the cauldron (_Flagratio_, Draco told his wand silently), and flames flickered into life. Draco prepared his ingredients, and began.

"Very well, class, now please collect some of your Draught in a small vial and hand it in on my desk. They will be given time to simmer and stew, as is intended, and by our next lesson they will be ready for testing," Professor Snape said icily. "Now let us just _pray _that you all performed the task correctly."

Draco looked into his cauldron. It was a thick purple near-solid mixture that slightly resembled colourful wet cement, and he grimaced. _What was it __**supposed **__to look like_? He wondered anxiously, and as he ladled some into a flask, sneaked a glance at Granger's potion – hers was also a thick, cement-y paste, though hers was a few hues lighter purple than Draco's own.

A satisfied smirk emerged on Draco's lips as he took his vial to the front. He stored his flask into the correct deposit slot, and then returned to tidy up his things.

_**CRASH**_.

"_Oops_! My bad, Malfoy," sneered the girl that Draco had sat beside as he stared down at the purple mess on the floor. His cauldron was up-ended, with a large dent in its gold surface where it had hit the stone floor, and his books were sprawled in the purple potion, smoking as they became sealed to the floor.

Everyone turned to look at him, and Draco felt his face burning. He quickly dropped down and tried to pull his books and quills from the tiles as mocking laughter filled his ears.

"_He's so __**stupid**_," someone giggled unpleasantly. "I can't believe he came top in potions last year."

"Ms. Brown," Professor Snape said coldly, "that will be twenty points from Gryffindor and a detention tomorrow. You'll probably destroyed the floor."

The girl gasped, sucking in more air than Draco would have thought could fill an elephant's lungs. He guessed that the whiney complaint of the century was coming. "But _sir_!" she whined. _Bing__**o**_. "Sir, I didn't _do _anythiiing. Malfoy put his books all over the plaaaace and I fell! I knocked his cauldron and it dropped and burnt his books to the ground but it was all his faauuuult, Professoooor!"

Professor Snape's lip curled as he strode towards the girl. "Ms. Brown, I do not _care _who's fault it was or how it happened! The fact of the matter is that you have knocked over a highly destructive potion and ruined the potions chamber! You will have a detention with me tomorrow whether you like it or not – and I think you'll have one next Wednesday as well for _sheer cheek_!" he snapped. "Now get out of my sight."

With a huff and a swirl of straight blonde hair, the girl stormed from the classroom, and the others followed in her wake. Only Draco and Professor Snape remained; Snape sitting at his desk and inspecting the various flasks, Draco scraping purple gunge from the floor.

"Mr. Malfoy, leave the mess. Ms. Brown can clean it tomorrow," Professor Snape said aloofly, a sneer curling his lips. There was a silence as Malfoy packed away his ruined books, and then the potions-master asked awkwardly, "Mr. Malfoy… is everything alright? You seem rather detached from the other students."

Draco avoided the Professor's piercing, hawk-like gaze. "No, sir," he replied softly, and, slinging his bag over his shoulder, left without a word.

**A/N:** A whole new side of Mr. Malfoy. Hm.. Please review! D


	9. Silhouette

**A/N: **Now we start to see the side of Malfoy that was always previously hidden by a tough exterior. Sweet. Thankyou for reviews, I heart you guys!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Nine: Silhouette**_

_**GINNY**_

Ginny wasn't sure why, but, after Transfiguration, she had a random urge to see how Malfoy was doing. She felt bad, after all that had happened the evening before, and thought maybe she could be his first friend.

It made her laugh. Ginny, friends with Malfoy? Interesting new theory. The realization of her friend-possible being Malfoy, a Slytherin, a Death Eater, who had never missed a chance to mock, humiliate and anger her, made her suddenly stop.

_No. I don't need to do or prove anything to Draco Malfoy. I can just turn around __**right **__now and go to the library. I'll read up on some Dark Arts and then I can hex Malfoy the next time I see him for everything's he's done over the past six years._

Then Ginny felt guilty and ashamed of thinking such mean thoughts, and headed towards the dungeons. She knew that he had potions – Harry and Hermione did, and they were in Malfoy's class.

Ginny reached for the iron handle of the door that lead to the dungeons, but before her thin fingers could wrap around it, it opened by itself. Hermione and Harry emerged, nearly running into Ginny.

Ginny stared at the pair of them – or, more importantly, the smiles on their faces, and Harry's arm around Hermione's small shoulders. She arched her red eyebrows pointedly at Harry's arm, hazel flickering up to meet green and brown.

"Oh, hi, Gin!" Harry said. He followed his girlfriend's gaze. "Oops," he said sheepishly, withdrawing his arm from Hermione, who turned pink. "How are you?"

Ginny shrugged. "Alright," she said, and then, very casually, "how was potions?" She scratched the grey paint on her fingernails, as if the thought had just come to her and hadn't really cared about what went on in their lesson.

Harry burst out laughing. "Oh, it was fabulous, it was _amazing_! Oh, Gin, you should have been there," he chortled, wrapping his arm around her slender waist, "Lavender waited until Snape and Malfoy weren't looking, and then POW. Whacked Malfoy's cauldron off the table. Potion everywhere, destroying the floor, destroying Malfoy's books. Lavender got a detention and points taken off, but I tell you, it was so _worth _it!" he looked as though he might continued, but cut short as he noticed the pained look on Ginny's face.

Hermione rolled her eye and elbowed Harry sharply in the ribs. She then smiled, "You want to come with us? We're just going to the lake."

Ginny looked at them both, and for some reason felt as though her heart was breaking a little inside. She knew how taken her brother was with Hermione, but him, the stupid, defensive idiot, would always just say, 'No, no, I won't say anything until I'm sure she likes me' and then, when she did like him, refuse blatantly to believe anyone, let alone ask her out.

Hermione so obviously fancied Harry, and Ginny knew that Ron would be destroyed. Ginny also knew that Harry probably didn't fancy Hermione back, which would complicate things a lot more than needed be.

Ginny sighed. "No," she said quietly, "I'm just going to wander around with my own thoughts for a while."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, but then shrugged, bid their goodbyes, and skirted around Ginny. As the younger girl looked over her shoulder at their retreating backs, Harry's arm was on Hermione's shoulder again. _Maybe Harry __**does **__fancy her, _Ginny mused, though she was certain that this wouldn't make their situation any easier.

She spared them one last sad look, and then moved through to the dungeons. The dark and the cold struck her like a sledgehammer, as it always did when she ventured down, below the ground. _How do the Slytherins survive_, she wondered for the umpteenth time, shivering. She trotted down the steps, twin ponytails fanning out behind her and bouncing on her shoulders. She peered through the potions classroom door, but saw only Professor Snape, marking various flasks of disgusting purple solidified potion.

Ginny noticed a large, semi-frozen violet mess on the tiles, and winced, remembering Harry's laughter. She turned away, and was about to head back up the stairs, to join Harry and Hermione, when she saw a shadow stir in a corner, far down the corridor, and a glint of white flashed at her sensitive eyes.

Immediately curious, she moved cautiously down the hallway, each footstep echoing in the hard, damp walkway. As she moved closer, she stopped, seeing the silhouette of a human shape. Ginny had a terrible feeling that she knew who the silhouette was, and bit her lower lip, feeling awful pity welling up and threatening to drown her.

Ginny took another step, and then didn't move. She was now half-visible under the dim candle-light a few yards ahead of her and waited for Malfoy to see her; she didn't want to invade his privacy if he wanted to be alone, but if he wanted company, she felt like she should be close enough for him to see that he wasn't alone.

There was an uncomfortable hush as Malfoy sat and Ginny stood. There finally came a time when he could no longer pretend that she wasn't there and looked up. There was a hurt, forlorn look in his usually-sparkling blue eyes, and, once again, his hair was no longer immaculate.

"Weasley," Malfoy said, trying to regain some of his dignity (while sitting on the floor in a dark corner, it had to be admitted that this idea didn't particularly work).

Ginny smiled and took this a signal for it to be safer to move closer. She thought over her choice of words for a few seconds, thinking that it would be good to pretend that she didn't know what had happened in potions, but not as so-what-it's-not-that-bad as some of her speeches sounded. She selected her phrase, and, with a tilt of her head and a concerned but slightly teasing tone, said, "Why are you on the floor?"

Malfoy lowered his eyes to his hands. "Doesn't matter," he said quietly.

"Does," Ginny retorted, and sat down, cross-legged, in front of Malfoy. "What's wrong?"

He glanced up, too quickly, and while he swiftly masked his face of any give-away emotions, as he looked at her, Ginny saw the distressed and cheerless look in his eyes. Malfoy heaved a long sigh, and, as though he really didn't want to tell her, said softly, "I had a bad day."

Ginny watched him, her eyebrows only tilting up the tiniest fraction. "The day only began two hours ago," she pointed out.

Malfoy's mouth twitched, as though his smirk might return, and then shrugged slightly. "Potions," he said dully, as if that one word explained it all. "I got there late and everyone was staring and whispering. I had to sit next to this horrible, vain, conceited _Gryffindor_ girl -"

"You don't need to sound _so _appalled," Ginny said, folding her arms. "Saying 'Gryffindor' like it's some kind of disease."

Malfoy's flicker of a smile dashed across his features, but, as always, was gone before Ginny could get a lasting impression of it. "If you know her, give her my thanks," he said darkly, "petite, skinny, straight blonde hair with sort of pink-y stripes and a very superior opinion of herself."

"Lavender," Ginny said. "My brother's ex-girlfriend. She isn't very nice. What did she do?"

Malfoy's face darkened again. "She… it was just the way she reacted when I sat down. Repulsed. Disgusted. Sort of… 'oh great, not him' attitude. And then, I handed my potion in to Professor Snape at the end of the lesson," he said, and trailed away, staring at the floor. "There was a bang," he said, now almost a whisper, "and then all of my potion and all of my things were on the floor, mixed together. My things were – are – will be - wrecked. Everyone laughed."

Ginny's stomach churned as she remembered Harry's near-inability to talk because of how 'hilarious' Malfoy's potion-tipping had been. She didn't mention this, but a guilty red tinge was growing up her neck.

"People were saying how stupid, I was." Malfoy looked up, straight into Ginny's eyes, and she could see, that, for some reason or another, at this particular moment, his feelings were in her hands – at this second, he _completely and __**totally **_trusted her. It made Ginny feel strange, but also like she really mattered to someone.

"You're not stupid," Ginny interrupted automatically, like her mind and her mouth were on auto-pilot. "You're really smart, much more clever than I could ever be, and I don't think that you should ever let morons like those _Gryffindors _upset you."

Malfoy stared at Ginny, and suddenly what she had said rushed back to her. Heat filled her face, and she knew that her face must be on fire, matching her hair.

Malfoy let out a disbelieving laugh. "Weasley, do you have any idea how much you just sounded like a Slytherin?" he said amusedly.

Ginny blushed furiously. "Well… maybe the Sorting Hat placed me wrong. Just because my brothers were in Gryffindor. I had no say in the matter," she said.

Malfoy nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. Then he tried again. "Weasley… thanks," he said at last, like those two words had caused him a lot of difficulty, and Ginny got the feeling that it had.

Ginny blinked at his openness, and then felt that maybe, just _maybe_, Malfoy wasn't such a bad person. "No problem," she smiled secretively, "…Draco."

**A/N:** And so, a pretty little seed of feelings is planted, and we shall watch it grow…

Lol that was corny. Please review.


	10. Tourniquet Calls

**A/N: **Yes, I know that Draco's not supposed a Divination-y type of person, but that's too bad. _My _Draco is.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Ten: Torniquet Calls**_

_**DRACO**_

Draco found that a strange bubble was starting to form around him, and, as he sat down, alone as always, in Divination, the jeering and mocking laughter of the Hufflepuffs didn't sting him as much as it had used to. He dumped his bag beside his squashy gold cushion, and sat down upon it, preparing his body to fall further than usual through the air to reach the lower seat.

The other students had mocked Divination, called Professor Trelawney a fraud, and even gone as far as calling the students who took it frauds – but Draco liked it. He liked the thought that there was another parallel universe where everything about his world could be seen, and that, did he study hard enough, he could reach. Perhaps it was the idea of staying in the parallel universe forever and never being hurt again that struck his fancy; maybe he just liked the gold cushions in the classroom. Either way, Divination was one of his favourite classes.

"Hello, class. Ms. Abbott is absent, is she?" Professor Trelawney suggested, shifting her large glasses on her long nose. A few Hufflepuff girls nodded, and sat up straighter so to pay attention and be top in the class.

"Very well," Professor Trelawney said. "This year you will be studying advanced crystal-ball work. Get out your books, please. Mr. Macmillan, I know you've forgotten yours."

A short, pudgy boy with thick blonde curls frowned, and raised his fat blue textbook. "I have it here," he said.

"Oh." Professor Trelawney cocked her head at him, as though she couldn't understand why she had been wrong, and then swivelled, sweeping away towards her desk.

Humour pushed into Draco's heart; a time when he usually would have smirked was now an empty vacuum of a blank stare as he pulled out _Beyond the Limits of Glass_, by Ophelia Decrow. He hadn't touched it yet, which was unusual for him. Normally, the instant he bought it, he read it from cover to cover so that he was totally read up on the subject by the time the school year started.

However, this school year was very different, and again Draco was reminded of the hollow space in his heart where his friends, companions, and childish hobbies had once resided. He felt over fifty years old, deep inside his seventeen-year-old form.

Draco flipped open the first page and began to read the small, neat text of the introduction to advanced crystal-ball reading. His intelligent blue eyes scanned the writing quickly, and as he began to take the sentences in properly, he reached for his divination notebook. His fingers wrapped around the small spine before he remembered that his books were destroyed. He withdrew his hand uselessly, glancing around the small classroom to check that no-one else had seen his stupid mistake.

A moment of still passed over the class as they all read, and then Professor Trelawney stood, and Draco saw a precarious pile of crystal balls towering on her desk. _Please, Trelawney_, Draco begged in his mind, _don't tell me that your Sight is __**so **__dim that you can't See that's going to fall and smash?_

Draco's Sight was nothing to be at all proud of, but even he could see flashes of every single crystal balls smashing, and the silvery fluid draining through the thin floorboards.

"Ms. Fox, if you could distribute the crystal balls, please?" Professor Trelawney inquired, her glasses quivering with each syllable.

A tall, thin, quiet Slytherin girl with straight jet-black hair falling to her waist stood and strode to the front desk. She clumsily gathered the balls in her long arms and stumbled to the front of the desks, near where Draco was sitting.

"Oh, God," he muttered as he watched the girl's foot snag on the carpet. Almost in slow-motion, her eyes widened and then she fell forwards. Before his mind recognized that anything had happened, Draco was on his feet, long wand pointed at the falling crystal balls. "_Immobilius_," he said quietly, and the balls froze.

The girl landed face-first on the carpet, and as she sat up, the first thing she did was shoot a glare at Draco. "Thanks," she spat, "you almost smashed them all!" She stood, brushed off dirt from her perfectly-clean robes, and then handed crystal balls to each student.

Draco's mouth was set in a hard, angry line by the time the girl reached him at last, and took the crystal ball from her without a "thank you". He set it down on the small, wooden coffee-table and looked up expectantly at Professor Trelawney for further instructions.

"You will be given no instructions during the N.E.W.T exams. You will be simply told to either predict the examiner's future or See into his or her past. I give you no help," she told the class dreamily, "but to begin and look into someone else's thoughts."

Draco's shoulders sagged. Great. He didn't have a partner. Now what? _I refuse to fail Divination simply because I'm too unpopular to have a prediction partner_, Draco told himself firmly, and raised his hand. "Professor, I don't have a partner," he explained, "do you think I could pair with you?"

Professor Trelawney nodded absent-mindedly, and sat down opposite Draco. He focused on his teacher and then pressed two index fingers against the sides of the crystal ball – it wasn't what was instructed, but he found that it worked better.

There was a heavy silence between Professor and student, before Draco said, "Darkness. It's just darkness. And shadows. Lots of shadows," he rifled through the glossary of his textbook, "mean nightmares. You have nightmares…" a swirl of grey crossed the shadows, "most nights. About…"

There Draco drew a blank. He could see slashes of pink and the vague outline of a white egg-shape, but combined, didn't come up as anything in the glossary. "It's not in the glossary," Draco apologized. "I can't finish."

Professor Trelawney smiled. "Well done, Mr. Malfoy. You have just caused the path of the future to change – instead of having many children, you will probably die alone and miserable."

Draco huffed. "Well, now that we've got that all cleared up," he commented dryly, "I still need something to do in the remaining ten minutes of the lesson."

The Divination mistress nodded. "Read your own future," she said mystically, and returned to her desk with a jangle of beads.

Draco grimaced to himself, and then pressed his fingers down on the sides of his crystal ball again. He fixed a mental image of himself in his head, and stared grimly into the glass.

There was a minute or two when nothing happened. And then he was somehow _in _the crystal ball, and all that he could see was his future…

_A cold, high, cruel voice that Draco knew too well…_

_**FLASH.**_

_Dark snake-like slits for eyes…_

_**FLASH.**_

_A dazzling smile and a fancy hairstyle…_

_**FLASH.**_

_And then, red. Hair. Red, being pulled back into a ponytail, revealing a grin and round hazel eyes-_

Draco was forced back into the classroom, and nearly rocked backwards off his cushion. Professor Trelawney was peering at him worriedly.

"Mr. Malfoy, class was dimissed two minutes ago," she informed him, wrinkling her eyebrows in a way of frowning and smiling at the time.

"Sorry," said Draco, tucking away his textbook, and leaving the tower hurriedly, spooked by what he had seen.

He headed towards the Slytherin common room, so that he could curl up on his big, familiar bed and think things over. His future involved Ginny. Why did this dawning realization make him feel ridiculously happy, but, at the same time, slightly naseous?

In the seventh-year boy's dorm, halfway towards his bed, Draco's arm suddenly erupted in fiery agony. He collapsed against his trunk, grinding his teeth together to stop himself from screaming; unluckily a shout escaped, and instantly there was a heavy patter of footsteps coming up the stairs to investigate. Draco wrestled himself to his feet, and, one hand wrapped around his forearm so tightly that it was almost a tourniquet, slammed the dormitory door closed. "Inpentrio," he hissed at the lock, and a thousand invisible locks closed over the door.

Draco staggered towards his bed, hoping to bury his head in his pillow and ignore life, but then his arm exploded in a new frenzy of pain, and he couldn't ignore it any more. He fell to his knees, ripping his sleeve up – _the Dark Mark was glowing._

"Yes… my Lord…" Draco croaked weakly, staring at the hideous black skull-and-snake.

_The fire._

Draco angled his head and saw Floo powder flames already licking at the cold hearth. He crawled towards it, and thrust his head through. Green was swirling through his vision as a million fireplaces whooshed past, and then he stopped, swaying dizzily.

He was looking at Bellatrix Lestrange's dining room. A crowd of Death Eaters looked calmly at him, and the Dark Lord spun in his broad-backed chair to face his youngest follower.

"My Lord," Draco said respectively, his voice still a painful rasp.

Lord Voldemort did not look happy. "Malfoy," he said coldly, "you have been at the school for a week now. Where is the Stone of Montol?"

Draco's stomach lurched. _Oh God, I totally forgot._ "I don't have it," he admitted nervously. Lord Voldemort's eyes stormed back into Draco's, and the seventeen-year-old said hastily, "but it won't be long."

"And why should I believe you?" Lord Voldemort snapped.

"Because…" Draco's mind scanned through possible excuses, before lying blatantly, "this is one of the Stone's side-effects. Ginny Weasley can't be touched. I have to… I have to weaken her first, or we could never get it."

The Dark Lord glowered. "How long will it take before she is weak enough to murder?" he demanded.

Draco's insides lurched at the m-word, and he decided to lie through his teeth again. "Ginny Weasley is strong by herself," he said, with what he hoped was a believable scowl, "and with the Stone's added power, she is very difficult to wear down. Nonetheless, the Stone will be ours soon, don't worry, my Lord."

Lord Voldemort glared, and then said icily, "Very well. Return to your job. I except her to be dead by Christmas, at the very latest."

"Thank you, my Lord," Draco stammered out past his reluctant tongue, and then withdrew from the Lestrange fireplace.

The young Slytherin reeled backwards, and he landed on his back on the stone tiles, staring vacantly up at the ceiling. His 'happy-bubble' had popped, and he was left feeling as though he might be violently sick.

**A/N:** Oopsies. Malfoy forgot why he was at Hogwarts… MURDERER! Please review !


	11. Confessions of a Nightmare

**A/N: **Three apologies : one, this chapter is VERY long. Two, it's a bit emo. Three, it contains mild language. Sorry. Had to be done. Thankyou to reviewers!! I love you guys!! –hug-

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Eleven: Confessions of a Nightmare**_

_**GINNY**_

"He's not going to do it," Ginny said flatly. "There's _no way _he's going to do it."

"_Ohmi__**god**_, I think he's actually _going _to!" Hermione screeched.

"HARRY, DON'T YOU DARE!" Ginny yelled, raising a warning finger to her boyfriend, who now stood, shivering slightly, in only his Hogwarts trousers, in front of the Lake.

Harry grinned, his teeth chattering in the autumn air. "I have to, Gin!" he called back. "A dare's a dare. My only other option is snogging Fang!"

Ginny had to admit that the prospect of kissing Hagrid's slobbery Great Dane wasn't a very appealing one, but what was annoying her was the fact that she knew he was only doing this to show off to other females present – and _not _her.

Hermione shrieked and Luna laughed as Harry took a deep breath, about to dive into the Lake for a joust with the Giant Squid. Ginny rolled her eyes and sat back against the tree trunk of the great willow. She didn't really care if he did or not – it was just stupid, and he'd complain later.

There a second's pause, and then Harry kicked off, jumping ungraciously and landed an awkward dive that splattered water across the four members audience. His sodden dark-haired head bobbed up a moment later, his glasses misted up and dripped beads of lake-water.

"You. Retard." Ginny folded her arms. "You're going to catch cold and then you'll be moaning for us all to wait on you. I'll say now – _no thanks_."

Harry laughed, and splashed water at them. "Come in, the water's great," he shouted.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "No," she said bluntly. "way."

"Pleeeease?" Harry pretended to plead, blinking his eyes pitifully, his short eyelashes glued together with water.

"I'll join you!" Luna yelped, and, without even removing her billowing Ravenclaw robes, flung herself clumsily into the Lake. She disappeared under the murky water, and then bobbed up, throwing her skinny arms around Harry's neck. "Hey, Harry!" she chirped happily.

Ginny's eyebrows shot up, and pursed her lips irritably. She didn't like Harry as anything more than a friend anymore, but it still annoyed her to see him hitting on Luna and Hermione when they were still dating.

She stood to holler at Harry to get out of the water and stop being stupid when someone grabbed her from behind. "Have fun," Ron's voice chortled, and then she was flung over his shoulders.

"_No_! Ron, put me down! I'll tell mum about this – _don't you dare, Ronald Bilius Weasley -"_ she screamed, but it was too late. The world was staying in place as she tore through it, yelling, and then she was engulfed in freezing cold darkness.

Ginny's breath was knocked from her chest as she struggled to get back up to the surface of the Lake, red ponytails flowing around her face, ghostly illuminated by the dim light streaming through the dirty water. Then her head broke the water, and she gasped and spluttered for air._­_

"Ronald! Weasley!" she snarled, shaking water from her hair. "You _idiot_! This is _freezing_!" Ginny clambered out of the bank, rubbing mud from her eyes, and when she took her hands down, she stopped. Harry and Luna had gotten out of the water when Ginny had been thrown in, and the two of them, plus Hermione and Ron, were cozied up together. Ron was sprawled out on the grass, a dreamy grin on his freckled features as Hermione's head lay on his stomach; Harry, sopping wet and, Ginny noticed, still shirtless, curled up with Luna fitting cutely into his arms.

Ginny cut herself short, and stared at them all with a sinking heart. Again she longed for someone to care about her like that, but she knew that no-one did. She snatched up her discarded socks, shoes and robes, and headed back towards the castle, her hair a crazy, saturated mess.

She was trudging up the stairs when she found herself looking

at a shiny Head Boy badge, and she redirected her gaze up to Terry Boot. "Hello, Terry," she said dully.

"Ginny," said Terry stiffly. "I suppose there's a good reason why you are walking up the main staircase, barefoot, and dripping wet?" He peered down at her, a silly smirk on his face.

"Yeah, well," Ginny said, "I don't really give a damn if it's against Hogwarts policy or whatever you're about to tell me of because of."

"Ginny, I don't think you should be addressing the _Head Boy _that way," Terry said seriously, pointing his badge at her, in case she'd missed it.

"Well, I don't think you should be flaunting your new position around like a new girlfriend," Ginny replied snidely, glaring at Terry.

Terry turned the colour of a beetroot. "I do not flaunt girlfriends," he snapped, a frown etching itself onto his handsome face.

Ginny snorted. "Sorry, Terry, but I don't believe that, and I don't think you really do either," she retorted. "And if you can't remember your girlfriend-flaunting history, think back two years." In her fourth year, Ginny had gone out with Terry (along with Michael Corner, Dean Thomas and Sean Finnigan) and she had broken up with him because it seemed that his only hobby was kissing her in front of everyone to show her off.

Terry reddened further. "I did not -"

"Grow up, Terry," Ginny sighed, pushing a hand backwards through her wet hair, "I don't want to hear it." With that, she sidestepped around him and continued up the stairs. By the time she reached the painting of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor, her clothes were only damp, and her skin was dry, though a little cold.

"Troll skull," she told the large, pink-dressed, beribboned woman in the painting, and the canvas swung forwards to allow Ginny through. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil giggled as she dripped on the carpet, but the redhead ignored them and continued up to her dormitory. She showered, changed into a different set of robes, and then dried her shoes and hair with the simple Flagnio charm.

Ginny took her hair out of its messy ponytails, leaving it loose around her shoulders. She turned to the mirror, wanting to see how long her hair was getting and if it needed to be cut yet (she wanted to beg a side-fringe off of her mother), and she saw the piece of parchment tucked into the corner of the frame.

It was old (five months old, in fact) and beginning to curl at the edges; on it, in small, slanting script was: _You're beautiful and I love you. Harry xx_ He had given it to her in August, telling her that, after breaking up with her at Dumbledore's funeral, he still fancied her, and she had stuck it on her mirror so that whenever she felt the need to look at her self and be negative about her appearance, she would know that someone loved her, whether she was pretty or not.

_Ironic, isn't it_? Ginny thought darkly, and ripped the parchment off, crumpling it in her hand and dropping it carelessly on the floor. She then flicked her hair over her shoulder, any thoughts of her haircut abandoned, and, stepping delicately over the screwed-up parchment, left the dorm.

She left through the portrait, and then realized that she had nowhere to go. Ginny looked through the tower window, and saw a crisp orange leaf float by; autumn had set it. "Hallowe'en," she said, remembering that it was tomorrow. The sixth and seventh formers were allowed into Hogsmeade for some Hallowe'en fun, and Ginny presumed that Luna, Hermione, Ron and Harry would all be going. She'd be expected to join them, but a vision of Harry, Luna and Hermione, Ron all kissing in the light of the full moon.

Ginny shivered. She was _not _going with them for Hallowe'en. She felt mean, but it couldn't be helped. She didn't want to be a gooseberry to their cuddling, and would rather stay in the dorm and eat chocolate, watching a horror movie.

Suddenly an idea struck Ginny. _Malfoy_. A small smile pulling at her mouth, she skipped down the winding stairs. The only problem now would be to find him in the labyrinth that was Hogwarts. An idea struck her, and she headed back to the Gryffindor tower, her legs pleading for rest from the endless stairs. Crossing to the boys' dorm, and sneaking past the wary eyes of Parvati and Lavender, she found Harry's bed, and burrowed under it until her fingers found the Marauder's Map.

Stuffing it into her robes, she slipped away, and back down from Gryffindor tower. Walking past the window she had stood at a moment ago, she opened the slightly creased map, and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." Black lines drew themselves across the yellowed parchment, like spiders beginning their webs. Every inch of Hogwarts was carefully painted on the paper, and then Ginny murmured, "Draco Malfoy."

The parchment flashed, and the lines ran sideways as the magical map located the seventeen-year-old Slytherin. Curiously, he was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, not moving at all. "Mischief managed." Ginny folded the map away and hurried towards the teenage ghost's haunt.

As she neared, she heard voices; a quiet male, and a soft, whispery female. She pushed open the door softly and stood in the shadows again, partly visible, but not too noticeable.

"So often I just think it wouldn't be easier to end it all. Just… zap. One spell. And then my life would get better."

"You could live with me in my toilet, if you wanted. Or you could go to the other side, I suppose. I was too scared to go to the Other Side and now I'm trapped in this stupid school forever."

"I would probably go to the Other Side… but I wish you could come too. It'll be really lonely, I guess, and how do I know that it'll be any better than here?"

"I don't know. It might be heaven… but it might be hell, too, and I just – Weasley!"

Ginny looked at her feet. "Sorry," she mumbled, but, very surprisingly, her face didn't glow. "I didn't mean to intrude."

Draco nodded. "It's okay," he muttered, but he folded his arms and held his elbows tightly. Then he looked up at Ginny. "Um… how much – how much did you hear?"

Ginny chewed her lower lip. "Enough."

Draco raked a hand backwards through his hair with a heavy sigh, dropping himself to sitting in the sinks. He stared down at his shoes, and for barely a second, he let his guard down enough for Ginny to see the immensely troubled look on his teenage features, like a very small child who is upset by something that he is too young to understand.

"Excuse me, but don't I know you?" Moaning Myrtle demanded rudely. Ginny looked up, and the fifteen-year-old ghost peered into the older girl's face. Then Myrtle gasped. "Oh_mi__**god**_," she gasped. "I knew it! It's you, that disgusting girl!"

Ginny frowned, not understanding. "I'm sorry, but you must have me confused with someone else," she said politely.

"No, trust me, I don't. I see your stupid face every night when I try to relax," Moaning Myrtle snarled, "You're the one who hurled a book at me. You're the _bitch _who opened the Chamber of Secrets and helped You-Know-Who, my murderer, get stronger. _You're __**Ginny Weasley**_."

Ginny's face darkened, and she looked down at the floor. That had made her first year in a safe haven, Hogwarts, into hell. She had been all excited about learning magic, and what happened? Oh yeah, a psycho fifteen-year-old possessed her, made her write on the walls in her own blood, and try to kill everyone.

Draco's mouth dropped open. "That – that was _you_?" he whispered.

Ginny didn't look up. "You're not the only one with a filthy past, you know," she said darkly, avoiding the shocked gaze that she knew was on her.

"Well, that was hardly -"

"_Hardly __**what**_?" Ginny suddenly exploded. "Hardly worth anything? Nothing terrible? Let me tell you some news, Draco I'm-so-tormented Malfoy – my life has never been the same. I was possessed by the most evil man alive when I was _eleven years old_. I helped him return to power! Thanks to me, hundreds of people have _died_! I nearly killed Colin Creevey, Professor Sinistra, Justin Finch-Fletchey, Ernie Macmillan, my ex-boyfriend Seamus Finnigan, my grandparents, my aunt, my _best friend_, Hermione – _I nearly killed __**myself**_I cut my self open every day, a thousand times, just to write creepy messages on the wall. Other kids came home with good report cards and spellbooks and broomsticks. You want to know _my _souvenir of Hogwarts? I came back with _**this**_**."**

Then, furiously, Ginny yanked the sleeves of her robes up, past her elbow, revealing long, rough, angry, bright scars stretching from her wrist to her forearm, jagged and untidy, cut by an unsteady eleven-year-old's penknife.

"Now you know why I don't wear short-sleeved T-shirts," Ginny spat, shoving her sleeve back down and glaring at the Slytherin and the ghost.

There was a silence in the bathroom, ringing with emotions – Draco and Myrtle stunned, Ginny furious. It grew thinner and thinner, ready to snap, and then Draco sighed. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Ginny slumped against the wall. "It doesn't matter, though, Draco, and I'm sorry I listened on you and Myrtle's private conversation. Myrtle, I'm sorry I threw a book at you," she said, feeling drained of all emotions and being left a dull, quiet shell.

"It's okay," Draco and Myrtle mumbled, Draco a little late. Then, curious, Moaning Myrtle asked, "Why did you come in here in the first place?"

Ginny flushed pink. She had screamed at Draco, and now she was going to try and ask him out. That would work. _Anyway_, Ginny corrected herself, _I'm asking him out on a __**date**__. I'm just seeing if he wants to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow._ She forced a small smile onto her pale face. "Well… I was looking for you, Draco. Don't ask how I knew where you were, I just did. And then you and Myrtle were…" Ginny fell silent, wondering how to continue.

She'd never asked anyone out before. The guys had always asked _her_. "Er…" Ginny puffed out her breath, and then said nervously, "I just… wanted to know… maybe – perhaps – if you wanted to join me on Hallowe'en in Hogsmeade."

Something lit up in Draco's eyes, but something else more powerful shrouded it, and he said bitterly, "I can't."

"Why not?" Ginny pushed, gaining confidence. "It'll be fun."

Draco didn't say anything, and Ginny knew that her sort of-friend was hiding something. Then he looked down into her pleading hazel eyes, and sighed deeply. "I don't even have anything to wear," he confessed.

Ginny grinned. "What do you mean? It's not like you _need _a mask," she teased, poking her pointed tongue out.

Draco's eyes widened, but he let out the tiniest of laughs, and shrugged. "Okay, I guess," he said, and once again, a flash of a smile crossed his face before disappearing.

"You can come too, Myrtle. It'll be scary," Ginny said, smiling. She knew that the young ghost had never had any friends, and perhaps she and Draco could be her first. _I'm on a roll with this new friend thing._

"Okay," Myrtle beamed. "Sure."

_I'd like to see Harry, Luna, Ron and Mione having this much fun_.

**A/N:** Yeah, that was a bit AU and a bit emo for Ginny, but oh well. Also, the reason that Draco is so unsure about Hallowe'en is because he doesn't want to get any closer to Ginny, because he knows he has to kill her. Hallowe'en should be fun… Hehe. Please review.


	12. Shooting Stars

**A/N: **I was going to throw a smooch into this chapter, because it was a perfect opportunity, but I decided against it. Tough. Thankyou to reviewers!! I love you guys!! –hug-

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Twelve: Shooting Stars**_

_**DRACO**_

Hallowe'en. Six o'clock. Draco anxiously inspected his reflection in the cold, snake-framed mirror. He looked stupid, he had to admit, but hopefully no-one else would mind. He had taken Ginny's diss seriously, and just prepared to wear an old shirt (long-sleeved, for Ginny's sake) and some old trousers, but, in the last twenty minutes before he was due to meet Ginny and Myrtle in the bathroom, had gone into a frenzy, deciding that he needed a costume.

In the little time he had, Draco had sealed several pieces of parchment together, making an untidy mask, singed eye- and mouth-holes in it, and transfigured it green. He had transfigured his hair green to match – with several errors. It first went pink, then black, then it disappeared, before he got it right – and wore a green shirt with baggy, ragged grey trousers with rips in the knees. The costume wasn't brilliant, but it was better than nothing.

Gingerly poking his fingers through the holes in his trouser-knees, he sighed, and then set off for Myrtle's toilet. Every step he took, Draco peered in any shiny surface he saw, frantic that in the last thirty seconds his mask had fallen apart or his hair had turned blonde again. He made it to Myrtle's bathroom in one piece, and immediately checked up in the many mirrors on the walls.

"You could say hello," Myrtle said, annoyed.

Draco swivelled to face the young (or, technically, very old) ghoul. She had no costume – she couldn't change out of the clothes she had died in. "Hello Myrtle," Draco said obediently. "You look nice for Hallowe'en," he added for good measure, knowing that it always made girls shut up.

Myrtle's grey face turned a few shades lighter as she blushed, and then said modestly, "I didn't really do anything." Draco knew that this was absolutely true, but didn't say anything. A sense of dread was threatening to suffocate him, but he pushed it away and tried to be cheerful. For just one night, he would be a happy person if it _killed _him.

"Where's Weasley?" Draco inquired, looking at his watch. "She's late."

"Oh, yeah!" Myrtle gasped. "I forgot. She's meeting us by the carriages. She wants to be a surprise because – I quote her – _'your costumes will be doubtlessly pitiful and I want mine to be amazing'."_ Myrtle snorted.

Draco chuckled as well, but nervously glanced down at his Hogsmeade attire. _Oh well_. They headed towards the Entrance Hall, the halls deserted by the lack of other students. Draco's hand grew sweat – this would show how popular he was, wouldn't it? Spending Hallowe'en with a dead girl who was seventy-six years old, definitely cool. A spasm of panic hit him as he thought, _What if she doesn't show up_?

They had reached the Entrance Hall doors, and despite all that Draco was feeling in his heart, he continued bravely. Soon they were standing by the golden Threstral-drawn carriages, waiting impatiently for Ginny to show up.

"Is she going to be here soon?" Draco demanded to Myrtle, a little snappy, scared of being abandoned. Before the other Hallowe'en-er could answer, he saw a flash of red skulking behind a tree, a few metres away. Draco squinted into the blackness. "Weasley?"

There was a laugh. "I'm no good at hide-and-seek." Ginny stepped out, into the shallow lamplight, a small smile on her face.

Draco heartr lurched; he suddenly found that his stomach had been squashed into a very small knot and was now somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. He opened his mouth to make a sarky comment, to defend his pride, but all that came out was a low rasp, and he felt his face heating up violently for reasons he didn't quite understand.

Ginny wore a knee-length, floaty black dress (with long sleeves, Draco noticed with a wince) that clung in all the right places. She wore strappy black high-heeled shoes so that the top of her head was now level with Draco's nose. A black hairband with two spiky devil-horns cut through her curly red hair, loose around her shoulders, and her hazel eyes were rimmed with black. Two large, feathery, black wings were attached to the back of her dress, waving slightly in the wind. Around her slim, exposed neck was the Stone of Montol, glittering devilishly in the orange glow of the lamp.

There was an astonished silence for a moment, and then Ginny said dryly, "Are we going to Hogsmeade, or is this going to be it?"

Draco reddened further, and said quickly, "Let's go," before anyone would suspect his reasons for silence.

Ginny grinned fabulously and hopped nimbly into the carriage. She scooted down on the red velvet sofa that lined the walls, and patted the seat beside her. Standing awkwardly with Myrtle by the door, Draco glanced over at the third member of his party, to see if she wanted to go and sit with Ginny, but Moaning Myrtle glided past and sat opposite the redhead, leaving Draco to either seem mean by sitting by Myrtle, or to be humiliated by sitting by Ginny.

"Tough choice," Ginny said sarcastically. "Just sit down, Draco. Neither me or Myrtle will despise you if you sit next to the other, so I honestly don't see why you're delaying our Hallowe'en-ing."

Draco chuckled, and slid into the seat beside Ginny, remembering his vow to be cheerful. "So what are we actually going to do in Hogsmeade?" he asked.

Ginny's eyes sparkled. "We could go to the Shrieking Shack," she said gleefully, "it'll be really scary, because it's haunted. Then we could go to Honeydukes to buy some sweets, maybe go to the Three Broomsticks."

Draco eyed Ginny suspiciously. "The Three Broomsticks is serving only alcohol tonight," he told her.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Loosen up, Draco," she said, "live a little!"

Draco folded his arms, and turned to stare at her. "May I remind you that I am the only one in our little group who isn't underage? While Myrtle is technically about sixty-seven, she is currently only fifteen, and you, Weasley, have a year to go before you can drink anything that's not wedding-champagne," he said flatly.

Ginny grinned. "And that's why you're here," she joked. "Lighten up, Draco, we'll only have one, and then we'll go to the Sober Banshee for several pumpkin juices to calm us down."

Draco's eyebrows rose slightly, but sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever," he said, "but I'm not cleaning up after a sick kid and a drunk ghost."

"I," Ginny snapped, "am not a kid," her hazel eyes blazed fiercely, and the Stone seemed to glow with a ferocity of its own, "and don't you forget it."

Draco smirked. "I thought we were going to 'lighten up', Weasley," he teased.

Ginny sat back, but a smile was tugging at her lips, and she turned away to hide it, and defend her honour. As she did so, she saw the lamp-lit landscape of Hogsmeade approaching, and allowed her guardedness to fall away as she beamed delightedly. "We're here," she chirped.

Myrtle and Draco returned a smile, and the three of them climbed out of the carriage. "To the Shrieking Shack!" Myrtle crowed, unnaturally confident; Draco and Ginny blinked at her outgoingness.

Ginny burst out giggling, and Draco gave a short laugh. It was funny, but he didn't feel like laughing properly. After all of this time hiding his emotions, it wouldn't do to drop them all, just to have a snigger at Moaning Myrtle.

The three of them decided to go to Honeydukes first, to get some sweets to eat at the Shrieking Shack, but as they neared the bustling, lively shop, Draco saw a girl with brown curly hair and cat ears, a tall boy with red hair and a ghoul mask, a skinny boy with messy hair, glasses, and fake blood, and a girl with a giant radish enclosing her small frame. Ginny obviously saw too, because she yelped, and veered away.

"What was that all about?" Myrtle inquired. "I thought we were going to get some food."

Draco looked at Ginny. "I know what that was about," he said, "I'm just curious as to why."

Ginny blushed and looked at her feet. "I told them I couldn't go to Hallowe'en because I didn't feel well – but actually, I just didn't want to go with them. So if they saw me with you two, the two ideas might contradict," she explained.

"It could be a different person," Draco suggested, and then glanced over Ginny, realizing what a stupid suggestion it was, "a different girl… small, thin, with red hair and freckles." _With a partially-evil necklace with unspeakable power_, he silently added.

Ginny smirked. "Precisely."

The space grew stuffy behind Malfoy's mask; he removed it, and stuffed it clumsily into his pocket. Chilly Hallowe'en air landed on his face, feeling refreshingly ventilated.

The full moon rose high into the sky, casting a silvery glow on everything as the Slytherin, the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff ghost arrived at the Shrieking Shack. The dim, pale light made everything slightly more creepy, and at every rustling of a branch, Draco felt a shiver sprint up and down his spine. More than once Ginny jumped backwards, hitting Draco painfully in the ribs with her flailing arms.

"Ow." Draco rubbed his ribcage, trying to get some feeling back into it. "Do try not to beat me up before we even reach the Shack," he complained.

Ginny pouted. "But that's no _fun_," she grinned. She grabbed hold of the wooden fence that surrounded the Shrieking Shack, and stood on one of the thick slats, peering across the misty hillside. "The Shrieking Shack is barely visible," she said, sounding disappointed.

Draco took a step closer to the fence, and followed Ginny's gaze. There, concealed by a thick, slightly reddish fog, stood a tumbledown, wrecked old house. "The fog is red," he noted.

"Well done," Ginny replied, and looked at him. Now that she was standing on a fence, she was about an inch taller than Draco, so he had to tilt his head up slightly to see her properly.

"Hello," he said softly, angling his head so that he could look up into her heart-shaped, creamy face. Draco didn't know why, but spontaneously let go of his protection and let a smile flicker on his face.

Ginny smiled as well. "It's weird being taller than you," she laughed, and climbed down. She crossed to Myrtle and giggled something into the ghost's ear.

Myrtle looked over at Draco, guffawed, and then hid her face away. Draco felt ashamed of whatever he had done – he didn't know what it was – and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "What's so funny?" he asked, not sure that he wanted to know.

Ginny began doubling up with hilarity, finally giggling, "You – you have green dye – dripping down your… _face_!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Women," he muttered, and charmed the dye away. His face was soon spotless, but Ginny and Myrtle hooted with laughter all the way up to the Sober Banshee (they settled upon not going to the Three Broomsticks). As Draco ordered a table, a young waitress even asked if anything was wrong.

The trio dropped down into cubicle, Myrtle and Ginny squashed together opposite Draco. After sending a fleeting look around the others, Draco told the waitress, "Three butterbeers, please."

Myrtle looked glumly at the polished table. "You're wasting your money, you know," she said dully, "I can't drink anything. The butterbeer will be unused for as long as time lasts."

"It's to make you feel more included," Ginny said firmly, "because you're our friend, and you shouldn't be left out of everything just because of a little thing like being dead."

Myrtle frowned. "A _little _thing?" she echoed.

Draco nodded. "A little thing."

The drinks arrived, and the two Hogwarts students lifted their glasses, while the ghost looked despairingly at her own. Draco and Myrtle looked to Ginny, who was furrowing her eyebrows together strangely. Then, she beamed, and said proudly, "To life, to death, and, most importantly, to that little area in between."

"Hear, hear," Draco cheered. "To Myrtle!"

"To Ginny," Myrtle smiled gratefully at the older – or younger, whichever way to look at it.

"To Draco," Ginny finished shyly, and the two living who could hold their glasses, clanked them together happily, and then touched their glasses gently to Myrtle's still one.

"May this be the best night all year," Draco said solemnly, feeling eternally thankful to his friends.

"Duh," said Ginny, and then whooped, "_We're gonna get __**wasted**_!" Draco's mouth dropped open, and she hastily added, "metaphorically, of course, because I'm not going to spike the drinks or anything."

Myrtle snorted, and even Draco managed a smile. Myrtle and Ginny spoke quietly for a while, as Draco sipped his butterbeer, trying to sort out his cavorting feelings. He wanted so badly to be friends with Ginny and Myrtle, but he had to kill the younger redhead. He wanted to be popular again, but he couldn't wind back time. He didn't want to be a Death Eater, but it was too late for that. He had too many wishes for a sky full of shooting stars.

**A/N:** I know, it's a little weird that the new Golden Trio is Ginny, Draco and Moaning Myrtle… Oh well. They can be the Silver Trio, I suppose. Anyway, I know that allegedly Myrtle's only supposed to travel through pipes but whatever. Please review!


	13. Secrets

**A/N: **Wow, the chapters are getting longer and longer!! Thankyou to reviewers!! I love you guys!! –hug-

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Thirteen: Secrets**_

_**GINNY**_

_Asleep in Draco's arm, her head on his chest, with a smile on her face as he gently stroked her red curls. "Ginny, I lo-"_

"Ginny!"

The sixteen-year-old blearily opened her eyes at looked up at Hermione, before groaning and swatting at her friend, mumbling, "Go 'way."

Hermione frowned. "Gin, I've been trying to wake you up for twenty minutes. It's – where did you get that chocolate from?" she suddenly said, latte-coloured eyes narrowing as she saw a tremendous heap of chocolate, sweets, and other Honeydukes merchandise.

Ginny turned over and looked at the pile. _Damn it! _She stared at the towering mound of good, searching frantically for a reply.

"Did you go to Hogsmeade?" Hermione demanded, crossing her arms. "Without us?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, Mione, I told you that I stayed here," she lied quickly, "someone gave me those. A boy. I told him that I was dating Harry and wasn't interested, but he wouldn't leave unless I took the stuff, so I did." She yawned pointedly, as if to say _That's all, now stop nosing about in what I do_.

Hermione looked dubiously at the younger girl, but sighed. "You have to go down to breakfast," she said, "or you won't get anything to eat. Find us later."

Ginny nodded, and, as Hermione swept from the sixth-year girls' dormitory, she rolled out of bed and stumbled groggily to the bathroom. Ten minutes, a shower, and a stubbed toe later, Ginny limped down towards the Great Hall, twining her hair into a two braids. She took a selection of toast and headed outside – where Harry, Ron and Hermione usually could be located.

The Golden Trio weren't under the willow, as normal, but Ginny also scanned the space under the Quidditch stands, and then the long wooden bridge. It had been there as long as anyone could remember, beautiful built, and stretching over a vast dip in the Hogwarts grounds; in its centre, three tall figures could be seen talking.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were huddled together, clearly talking about something private, so Ginny called, "Hello," before joining them, so that they could finish up whatever was going on. The three snapped apart briskly, and stood, impatiently shifting their feet, as Ginny approached. "How is everyone?"

"You went to Hogsmeade," Ron interrupted. It wasn't even a question. Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but what cut off again.

"I'm just curious as to who you went with that we can't know about," Harry said, an irritated and slightly jealous look in his emerald eyes.

"No-one," Ginny said. "Okay? I went alone."

"Why didn't you come with us? And if you didn't want to, you could have just told us, instead lying and sneaking around behind our backs," Ron snapped. "You haven't been owling mum either. She's really frantic, sending me post every ten minutes saying _Where's Ginny what's wrong with her_? Hell, she's even owled _Harry_, demanding to know if he _eloped _with her, for God's sake."

"I'm not eloping with anyone!" Ginny cried, her mouth dropping open at the ridiculous things they were coming up with. "I don't know what your problem is. _Sorry_ that I happen to have other friends! I'm a year below you, I have sixth-year friends, and even fifth-year friends! I have _first-year _friends, for heaven's sake! Just because you're so I-musn't-make-friends-with-anyone-else doesn't mean that I am!"

Ron glared. "Ginny, this is your 'paranoid, psycho' older brother speaking. I went to all of your sad little friends, asking where you were. You've been keeping away from _everyone _for the past few weeks," he said.

Hermione looked concerned. "We haven't seen anything of you; we don't even know if you're alright," she said worriedly.

"You're not my mother, Hermione," Ginny said fiercely, "I've already got one of those. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself! I haven't had any help fighting Voldemort off my back for the past six years, so why should I need help now with my goddamn social life?"

"All I'm saying, Ginny, is that you could spend more time with us. We're supposedly your best friends, so you don't have to avoid us like we've got the plague," Harry put in.

"Fine!" Ginny snapped. "I'll spend more bloody time with the three of you! Happy?"

"_Ginevra Molly Weasley_, do not swear!" shouted Ron angrily, "I'll tell mum!"

Ginny shot her brother a death-stare that could kill at ten paces. "He who has never sinned may throw the first stone," she said snappily. "When you manage not to swear for a week, I'll stop." With that, she turned, and stalked away. _Why do they have to ruin the best time of my life_?

Rummaging in her school bag, she came up with a sheaf of loose paper, and began flipping through it for her Muggle Studies revision. She had a test tomorrow, which she had _not _prepared for. Finding her way to her favourite corner in the library (some way or another, while reading her notes), she sat, cross-legged, and examined her small, untidy scrawl. As she was nearing the last paper, she heard a small voice.

"Ginnyyyyy… _Ginnnyyyy_?" Luna. "We're going to Hagrid's… Harry and Ronny and Hermy say to come or else."

Ginny rolled her eyes. This was a really big test, and she'd much rather charm some revision cards to ask her questions than go with her dippy friends to see Hagrid. She loved Hagrid, but her exam was more important.

"Where are you?" Luna called, sounding disappointed as her footsteps symbolled her peering behind various bookshelves.

"I'll find her," said a low, quiet voice, and then part-muted footsteps drew closer and closer. "Boo," he said softly.

Ginny looked up and smiled warmly at Draco. "Hello."

"Loony wants you," he said dully. "Have fun at Hagrid's." Ginny knew that Draco had always held a dislike for the half-giant – Hagrid had nearly got him killed, and insulted his father many times.

"Don't call her Loony," Ginny said warningly. "It's unkind. She's a nice person, and you're being plain mean." Draco pouted, but then held out both of his hands. Ginny couldn't remember why she had rejected his offer the first time, but she reached up, took his hands, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Thanks."

"No problem, Weasley," Draco said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Ginny gave him a curious look. "Why do you do that?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to the left, as she always did when putting a interesting question into the air.

Draco stared vacantly at her. "Do what?"

"Call me 'Weasley'. I wasn't christened Weasley Weasley, you know," Ginny said sarcastically.

A sheepish grin pulled at Draco's mouth. "Sorry – Ginny," he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head; Ginny noticed that it was now never slicked back as it had also used to be. It was now slightly more messy, a few strands falling in front of his pale eyes. "Are you going to Hagrid's, then?"

Ginny bit her lip. "I don't particularly want to, but I have to, I guess," she said bitterly. Then, before she could stop herself, she said, "Do you want to come? No, actually, you can't. I mean, you could, but Harry and Ron will be there, and they don't like you. What I mean is, do you wish I wouldn't go? Well, not that, but-"

Draco's eyes narrowed teasingly. "You want me to say I'll miss you in the twenty minutes that you'll be gone," he said mischievously.

Ginny reddened madly. "I did not mean that!" she said flatly. "I just meant that –" Ginny stopped as she realized that Draco had basically summarized her meaning perfectly; she flushed red further. "Never mind," she said hastily, before she said something dumb.

"Well, see you," said Draco absently, rifling through the book shelves. Ginny stood, self-consious, and not quite sure what she was waiting for, feeling the heat in her cheeks slowly increase until she could have fried a couple of eggs.

"Right. Bye," Ginny said at last, and scurried away. She walked down to Hagrid's Hut with Luna, chatting about the lessons they shared and what Luna had done on Hallowe'en (the Ravenclaw was ditzy enough not to ask what Ginny had done).

Luna stepped up and rapped her knuckles smartly on the large door, before stepping back, humming tunelessly as they waited for someone to reply. A moment later, the door swung open, and the large, grizzled face of Rubeus Hagrid beamed down at them.

"'ello!" Hagrid said cheerfully, stepping aside to let the two girls in. Luna plopped down between Harry and Hermione; Ginny sat in the nearest wooden chair. "I made tea fer us all," Hagrid said, handing out mugs of steaming brown liquid, and then demanded, "So tell me about what's goin' on."

Ginny grinned. Hagrid really was the most gossip-y person at Hogwarts – more so, it had to be said, than Lavender and Parvati. Luna began to excitedly chatter nonsense, with Hermione pointing out what hadn't happened and what wasn't real every few seconds, while Ron and Harry slouched back with their tea and muttered to each other.

"And that's about it, really," Luna finished dramatically, staring at the curtains, before slurping her tea and wriggling up close to Harry.

"Oi, you," Harry exclaimed, "you're going to slosh my tea all over me!"

"We wouldn't want that to happen, now, would we?" Ron chuckled (but he set his tea down too) and shuffled nearer to Hermione. She leant back onto the tall, lanky redhead and sighed contentedly, before talking happily to Hagrid and telling him what was _really _going on, in place of Luna's opinion on Heliopaths and Crumple-horned Snorkacks.

Meanwhile, Luna and Harry were having a staring contest, which looked a lot more like gazing dreamily into each other's eyes, snuggled up together. Ginny tore her eyes away from her boyfriend and one of her best friends, and instead listened to Hagrid and Hermione's conversation. What she heard was more interesting than she expected.

"When did Harry break up with Ginny?" was the first thing that she heard, and instantly all of her attention was focused towards them.

"What – oh, he hasn't," said Hermione.

"Yet," added Ron pointedly.

_What the hell is __**that **__supposed to mean_? Ginny's brain challenged her brother quietly.

"Whaddaya mean? Ginny and 'arry are still goin' out?!" Hagrid said incredulously. "With all that goin' on?" Ginny glanced over at Harry and Luna. It was something she too had thought about many times.

"Well, yes, because Ginny doesn't exactly know Harry fancies -"

"_Shhhh_!" Ron hissed anxiously. "_She's only __**there**_!"

Hermione lowered her voice considerably, so that Ginny had to strain to hear her friend. "Ginny doesn't know that Harry fancies Luna," said Hermione, "me and Ron haven't told her because we want Harry to be a man and tell her himself. Luna's too ditzy to say anything about anything, and Harry is terrified that he's going to hurt Ginny and then be beaten up by all her brothers and friends."

Ginny smirked. _Too right_, she thought smugly, _Dean, Seamus and Charlie will beat the hell out of him._

"Well, pardon me saying but I think it's a li'l obvious, actually," Hagrid rumbled, trying to whisper. "Anyway, Ron, how come you aren' furious with 'im? When li'l Ginny was datin' Dean Thomas and all the rest you went up the wall."

Ron was silent, and Ginny took it that he was glaring. "I _am _furious," he said darkly, "and I swear, if Ginny sheds a single tear then I'm going to rip off his head and -"

"_Ron_!" Hermione reprimanded, sounding horrified. "It's not Harry's fault that he's moved on. I just wish that he'd be nicer to Ginny. I think it's ridiculous – he can face You-Know-Who, the Ministry of Magic, the Death Eaters; but he can't face dumping a little girl."

_Will people stop saying I'm little_? Ginny snarled, folding her arms. Her attention wavered a little as she glanced at Harry and Luna – Harry was now kissing the top of her head - the tiniest affection for Harry persuaded up a wave of jealousy, and her necklace grew scaldingly hot; and so she missed the next few sentences…

"I swear, Harry's dead if Ginny so much as makes her eyes water," Ron snapped. "I'll call in Fred and George to pin him down while me and Bill and Charlie and Percy whack him."

"Ronald, stop getting carried away. Ginny's sixteen, she can take care of herself."

_**Thank **__you, Mione_, Ginny thought with satisfaction at Hermione being on her side, but Harry's secret love was getting to her – especially as it was definitely no longer a secret.

**A/N: **Ooooo, _busted_! So Harry isn't actually a part of Ronnikins and Mione's triangle… Please review!


	14. Coincedences & Shattered Bone Structures

**A/N: **Thankyou to reviewers! Iloveyou… D

Draco starts to feel for someone… ooh.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Fourteen: Coincidences and Shattered Bone Structures **_

_**DRACO**_

With November came the first Quidditch match of the term – Slytherin versus Gryffindor. _What a coincidence_, Draco couldn't help thinking as his mind flashed back to Ginny. He hadn't wanted to go to the match at all, due to his touchiness about being kicked off of the Slytherin team, but Ginny had pleaded and, eventually, refused to talk to him until he agreed to go.

The days were already noticeably colder, and so when Draco left Charms class he donned a silver-and-green scarf emblazoned with a coiling snake (appropriate, he thought, for cheering on the Slytherins). He was soon caught in a chaotic bustle of students, teachers, and background staff alike in their rush for getting the best seats. It was raining, which turned to shouting to a general screeching as everyone tried to get to shelter, away from the mud that now had taken place of any solid ground.

Draco wasn't one of the early ones who left their seats in class before the teacher had even finished assigning homework, and so he got a fairly bad seat, cramped, near the back. Several of the taller ones were unfairly placed in front, so that slightly shorter Draco couldn't actually see very well.

On the direct other side of the pitch were the Gryffindors: a swarming sea of red and gold, billowing and waving as each individual stood or sat or started to sing. Draco scanned the crowd for a glimpse of red hair, but amongst the amount of red that _wasn't _Ginny Weasley's hair, it was impossible.

Madam Hooch, the Quidditch referee and flying teacher, soared into the centre, and, with a hoot of her whistle, called the players around her. Green-clad, there was Blaise, Flint… his replacement, a scrawny black-haired third-year called Alex Tallow, and various other new teamplayers whom Draco didn't know. Then, red-clad, the Gryffindors. Potter, smirking arrogantly for England. Ginny's brother, looking as if he might be sick. Two bludgers who had replaced Ginny's twin brothers, who Draco didn't know, one chaser who Draco didn't recognize, and a third chaser who he knew as Seamus Finnigan.

"Sorry I'm late," could be heard faintly above the chatter, and the third chaser zoomed into sight. Draco saw the flaming ponytail, fanning out, before he saw the heart-shaped face and the cheeky grin.

"Ginny," he whispered, a diminutive smile appearing on his lips. Luckily, he was drowned out by the roaring off the crowd, and he leaned forwards in his seat to see her better.

"Now, I want a good, clean game," Madam Hooch said briskly. "The slightest of mishaps, and there'll be trouble! Now… on my mark… _**play**_!"

A blur of burgundy was the Quaffle being hurled into the air, and the players were darting away; Potter and Tallow circling like birds of prey, Ginny, Finnigan, Flint, and the others whirling away with the Quaffle.

"Aaand it's Ginny Weasley with the Quaffle, look at her go! Flint trying something ugly, will it work, will it work – _Aah_, that was close!" Colin Creevey was bellowing, excited as usual (more so than ever, with his new position as commentator), waving his microphone around. "Ginny is _unstoppable_ tonight! There she goes, good pass to Finnigan, swirling past Hill, and then _ooohhh _Hill's got it, marching up the pitch like a _storm_!"

Draco's attention was fleeting between Hill, who he was cheering for, and Ginny, who he was beaming for. It was hard to see through the blinding rain, but he focused on Hill in time to see the Quaffle whoosh between Ron Weasley's fumbling, outstretched arms, and "YESSSS!" Draco screamed with a million other Slytherins, leaping out of his seat and punching the air madly.

Weasley's face was scarlet to match his hair as he lobbed the Quaffle back into play. Ginny was off again, hair and robes snapping back in the wind, then Seamus, soaring away, Flint attacking mady –

"SNITCH!" Ginny suddenly screamed, spinning insanely to catch Potter's attention. Then the pitch was a smudge of colour as all chasers, seekers, and beaters went in a fury trying to get the snitch, find the snitch for the seekers, or get the snitch away from the seekers.

Draco's attention cracked to Potter and Tallow, watching the world smear with insanity. Then, Potter's hand, frantically scrabbling for the Snitch, reaching, closing around the tiny golden ball –

_**SMACK**_

A sickening crunch filled the pitch, pursued shortly by a concurrent gasp as Harry Potter moaned, reeled backwards off of his broom, and plummeted earthwards.

"_HARRY_!" It was Ginny, the longest, most anguished, desperate cry that Draco had ever heard; Draco looked at the younger girl, shooting, streamlined, towards the ground, firing down in the fastest Wronski Feint that Draco had ever seen – and he had been to the World Cup to see Viktor Krum play from Bulgaria.

Then her slim arms were around Harry's torso as he fell, and managed to slow him enough that he merely landed with a painful _thud_ instead of splatting across the sand-pit like a tomato that has been stood on. Ginny was bent across him, her face gauntly pale as she tried to bring him around.

Draco found that he was at the front of the stand, leaning over as far as he could without falling, despairingly staring down towards the Gryffindor team curled around Potter. In the centre was Ginny and Potter, clinging to each other in his agony.

Draco watched in horror as the majority of the Quidditch team fled to fetch Madam Pomfrey, leaving just Ginny and her brother with Potter. Ginny was saying something; Draco couldn't hear. And as she watched over her boyfriend concernedly, a strange feeling possessed him.

_If I fell and nearly killed myself, would Ginny care as much_? he wondered to himself, and as Madam Pomfrey carted the invalid away, with Ginny following closely, Draco found him totally confused as to why seeing Ginny so desperately worried for Harry Potter made his stomach hurt.

The match was cancelled – it couldn't continue without a seeker – and Draco hurried up to the Hospital Wing to see Ginny. He knew that she would be watching over Harry, and he anxiously wanted to see her and know that she was okay after the tough match.

As Draco neared the Wing, he realized that he would most definitely not be welcome there. Potter, the Weasleys, and other numerous Gryffindors, probably would not appreciate his support. He was unsure what to do, and shuffled impatiently beside the grand doors.

_If someone comes out, what do I do_, Draco thought nervously. _I'll say... er…_

"Why are you here?" someone demanded. "I didn't think you'd be one to worry about Harry's health." It was Seamus Finnigan, the Gryffindor chaser._ Damn, say something_!

"Um, I'm waiting for Madam Hooch," Draco lied hastily. "She is in there with Potter, isn't she?" _Yes! Score one to Malfoy_. "I need to ask her a question about my broomstick."

Finnigan glared. "She's not in there. You're wasting your time waiting for her," he said darkly, and stalked away. Draco let out a breath of relief, slumping against the wall.

"Aw, and there I was, thinking you were waiting for _me_," said a female voice. Draco, surprised, turned, and saw a sweaty, drenched, dishevelled, but beautiful, Ginny Weasley.

Draco smiled weakly. "Now why would I do a thing like that?" he joked, then, more serious: "How's Potter?"

Ginny's face grew grim. "He's snapped just about every bone in his body and he refuses to wake up or co-operate with any functional tests on his nervous system," she said gravely.

"English, please?"

"He's unconscious, and he's having to regrow his entire skeleton," Ginny translated, a humourless smirk growing on her pale features.

Draco bit his lower lip. "Ouch," he sympathised, "and… and – how are you?" It took a lot of effort out of his to be so openly anxious, after all of his guardedness.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Apparently, I'm not allowed any more Quidditch for a month because I've fractured my left elbow and sprained my wrist because of catching Harry pretty much out of the sky," she murmured.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "You should still be in there, getting cleaned up," he said pointedly.

Ginny shrugged. "I heard voices outside," she grinned, "plus, I'm not getting any attention in their because Harry's stealing the limelight, what with his shattered bone structure and all."

"You should go back inside," Draco insisted, nudging her in the direction of the Hospital Wing. "Go on."

Ginny poked her tongue out at him cheekily. "I'm not going back in," she said determinedly, "anyway, even if I was having a bloody _baby_, they'd put me second-priority to the Boy Who Lived." Draco might have been imagining it, but he heard a little more than a trace of derisive scorn in the sixteen-year-old's tone of voice.

"Well, what are you going to do, then?" Draco said, folding his arms. Ginny grabbed his elbow and pulled him towards the stairs.

"Come on," she said, "I'm _starving_. Let's get some toast from Great Hall. I didn't have any breakfast; I had to get up at six in the morning and train like hell."

Draco nodded, despite his strong feelings that Ginny was unwell and should be resting, and headed amiably down the many stairwells to awaiting food. Descending the final set of stairs, Ginny suddenly stopped dead.

"What is it?" Draco asked, bewildered, looking at his friend's filthy, frozen face. He followed her gaze, and saw an equally dirt-covered Weasley at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ginevra. Weasley." Ron said, suddenly dangerously calm, eyes narrowed. "What are you doing away from the Hospital Wing?"

_Ginvera_? "Ginny," Draco hissed urgently in her ear, trying to tug her away, back up the stairs, but she wouldn't budge from her position, dripping mud and slime onto the smooth, marble steps.

And then Ron was in front of them, seizing Ginny's shoulders. "Get the hell away from her!" he snarled, pulling his little sister away. Before Draco could even apologize or shout a farewell, Ginny was gone, disappeared through a painting or a tapestry, shooting one final 'sorry' glance at him before vanishing.

Draco stared at the empty space where she had been a moment ago, before sinking onto the top stair and looking down at the Entrance Hall doors, feeling more desolate than ever.


	15. How a Mind Works

**A/N: **SORRY. I just realized that I accidentally posted chapter 14 twice. My bad. Heh. –awkward- I have fixed it now, not to fear!!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Fifteen: How A Mind Works**_

_**GINNY**_

"Ron, I was _fine_!" Ginny snapped, sitting up in her Hospital Wing bed. "You had no need to interfere!" Her wrist had been mended, and her elbow was in a tight cast to help the Healing Charm on it work faster. Though she was mostly mended, save for a several bruises and cuts that were insignificant enough to not need special Medical attention, she was still thoroughly coated in mud from the match, and now closely resembled the Abominable Mudman from Muggle fairy-tales.

"I had every right to interfere, Gin. It was Malfoy, and he had his disgusting Slytherin Death Eater hands on you!" Ron spat. "If I hadn't gotten in the way, who _knows _what he might of done to you!"

Ginny coloured with anger as she lurched forwards to try and hit Ron. "_He wouldn't have done __**anything**_!" she said defensively, "he happens to be my friend!"

There was a stunned silence. "Your… your _friend_?" Ron echoed sceptically. "Malfoy – is – your _friend_?" He gave a shallow, harsh laugh. "You can't be serious!"

Ginny gave her sibling a hard, stony look, showing him that she was deadly serious.

"Oh my God, you're actually not joking," said Ron flatly. "You like Malfoy. _WHY_? He is a Death Eater, he killed Professor Dumbleore, he's going to try and kill you next!"

"Draco did not kill Dumbledore," said Ginny, shielding the Slytherin from abuse, "and he would never try to kill me. I've known him a while, and he would never stoop to that level. Never."

"A while?" Ron shouted, "_Hell, _Ginny, you've known him this 'new' Malfoy since September! Two months! He has been a Death Eater for two _years_, Gin! How do you know he wouldn't kill you? How?"

Ginny opened her mouth to yell the response back, but remembered her sincere vows to Draco that she would never tell anyone about anything he'd told her or Myrtle. She fell silent and dropped back onto her pillow, staring angrily at the ceiling. Ron took his sister's response as defeat, and, with an angry glare, and an "I'm telling mum about this", stomped away.

Ginny sighed. Ron was becoming increasingly difficult as time went on, because of his theory on Hermione being in love with Harry, which everyone, except Ron, knew was totally untrue. She inspected her elbow carefully, for want of something interesting to do, but found nothing of amusement.

As she lay back in her boredom, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to finish with the other Gryffindors and heal her, she found herself wishing that Draco would come, give her something to smile about, or tell her something to cheer her up.

Sleep pulled at her eyes, and when she woke up, Madam Pomfrey still hadn't even visited her once. Ginny moaned, and rolled out of bed. _I'm sick of just being here_, she decided, _forget the stupid matron-check, I'm leaving_.

Three beds from the door was Harry. He was still totally coated in all mud imaginable, and he looked terribly limp in his bed due to the lack of having any bones – he had to have them all regrown _again_ for the second time during his education at Hogwarts. Ginny touched her fingers to her lips and then to his forehead, before smiling sadly at her poor, unconscious boyfriend and continuing from the Hospital Wing.

She had her Muggle Studies test now, so she wouldn't need her books. _I can borrow a quill from Luna, _Ginny supposed as she turned into the classroom. Professor Wyling was passing out the test papers as Ginny sank into her usual seat beside Luna.

"What've I missed?" Ginny whispered to Luna.

"Nothing, really," said Luna dreamily. "Though I'd be careful… Heliopaths have an intense dislike for redheads this month. Warn Ronald too, and don't eat any aubergines."

Ginny stared at her friend, trying to comprehend exactly what it was that Harry saw in her. Sure, Luna was tall (she'd always been quite taller than Ginny, but now she had to tilt her head right back to see her face) and had fabulous grey eyes which seemed to have hidden depths… but she was just so _weird_.

"Thanks," Ginny said wryly. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Silence!" cawed Professor Wyling across the classroom, scowling. "Begin your tests."

Ginny picked up one of Luna's quills, dipped it in black ink, but before she had even formed her name on the piece of parchment, a phoenix swooped in. She looked up, distracted from her exam, and watched the fiery crimson bird make its flight to Professor Wyling, and land on the teacher's desk.

The Professor looked peculiarly at the large bird, and then uncoiled a strip of parchment from its short leg. Ginny watched as Wyling's eyebrows rose higher and higher, before the Professor of Muggle Studies lifted her gaze and said, "Ms. Weasley."

Startled, Ginny blinked at Professor Wyling, before standing, and crossing to the front of the chamber, aware of the other's students giggles at her muddy Quidditch attire. "Yes, Professor?" she said, puzzled.

"The Deputy Headmistress wants to see you in her office immediately."

Ginny's confusion only deepened. "Er. Okay," she said, and left the Muggle Studies chamber, trying to guess why on earth Professor McGonagall wanted with her, and why she couldn't simply be sent to see Professor Umbridge, who was, after all, the Headmistress. _It's probably something that Umbridge would disapprove of, like the Order. Maybe dad's been hurt again!_ With this concept now lodged in her brain, overruling all others, she hurried faster to the Transfiguration mistress' office.

A broad, maple-wood door with _McGonagall _carved into it came into view beside the Transfiguration classroom door, and Ginny rapped on it nervously. "Hello? Professor?" she called through the thick wood.

The door swung open, and Ginny stepped in, standing uncomfortably in front of Professor McGonagall. "Ms. Weasley," she said smartly, though she looked quite concerned. "Sit down."

As Ginny did so in the hard-backed chair, she noticed two identical nineteen-year-old men and a small, pink-haired woman standing against the far wall. "Tonks! Fred, George!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Usually her elder twin brothers would have made some wisecrack then, but an unnaturally solemn and fearful look was on their freckled faces. "Hey Gin," they said quietly, with Elma Tonks (key member of the Order of the Phoenix, Auror, Professor Tonk's eighteen-year-old daughter, and Fred Weasley's girlfriend) following, late, with a, "Hello Ginny."

"What's wrong? Professor McGonagall, what's going on?" Ginny demanded, feeling panic rise inside her. "Is dad hurt again?"

"No, no, don't worry about your father," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "It's – it's _you _we have to worry about. The Order of the Phoenix has found devastating news concerning He Who Must Not Be Named."

Ginny gulped, and hugged herself tight, burying her short nails into her arms, feeling old scars burn again. "What about him?" she asked, keeping calm for her brothers' sake. She was always the one would could never be scared; if she broke down, then they'd all be in trouble.

"We invented a new product for the shop," Fred said, "a new version of Extendable Ears."

"They were more Extendable than ever. They could hear everything for miles, and you had to change the settings on the Ears until you found the conversation that you were looking for," George explained.

"Otherwise," Fred joked, "you might listen to something that you didn't want to hear." He winked at his sister, a devilish smile emerging, before remembering something, and becoming sincere again.

"We were testing it, in the Burrow, and… we heard something," George said, "something that we weren't meant to hear. Him. And his followers."

Ginny's round hazel eyes widened. "What did you hear?" she whispered.

Fred and George looked down, ashamed. Tonks took a deep breath. "They heard his plan. He… we don't know why, Ginny, and we don't know when or where he plans to carry out his plan," she said, "in fact, there's only one thing that we do know."

Professor McGonagall chipped up sombrely, "Ms. Weasley, He Who Must Not Be Named intends to kill you."

All of Ginny's breath rushed out of her lungs, and for one heart-stopping moment she thought that she might die, in Professor McGonagall's chair, before Lord Voldemort could even get to her. "Well," Ginny said, fighting to keep her voice from trembling, "now that we've got _that _understood… what now?"

Tonks rushed to stand beside Ginny's chair, knocking over a second chair as she did so, and hugged Ginny tight. "It's okay," she said comfortingly, "you know that none of us are going to let him get you."

This didn't make Ginny feel any better, but she reminded herself that Voldemort had tried to kill her before. _If I can escape him once, I can surely escape him again_, she thought defiantly. "Where did you hear the meeting was?" she asked Fred and George.

"I don't know. The Extra-Extendable Ears don't range _that _far, so they would have to be meeting within … I'd say about twenty-five miles," George guessed.

Ginny's mind flickered over everything she knew about geography and Lord Voldemort, fitting together everything that she could… - "Bellatrix Lestrange," she said suddenly. "They were meeting in the Lestrange castle. It's ten miles from the Burrow… north-west, I think. Bellatrix is Lord Voldemort's most favoured Death Eater, so if we can -"

Ginny abruptly halted her line of speech. _Ohmigod. Draco_. What if Draco wasn't as white as she had thought? What if Ron was right? "Who was at the meeting?" she demanded.

Fred and George exchanged glances, unsure of why their sister was suddenly so fierce when she had been so scared a moment ago. "I have no idea. I just heard Lord Voldemort, Pettigrew, and Lestrange. Maybe Rodolphus as well. I can't be sure," Fred said.

Ginny exhaled sharply through her nose. _If Draco is involved in this, he'll have his head ripped off my all of my friends before he can even draw his wand to curse me_. "When was the meeting? When did you hear it?"

Again, Fred and George turned to each other. "About… two o'clock today, I'd say. We owled McGonagall and flew here as soon as possible," they agreed.

_Two o'clock._ "That's… an hour after the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor!" Ginny exclaimed. "He was with me!"

"_Who _was with you? What's Quidditch got to do with – Ginny, _concentrate_, damnit! You-Know-Who is trying to do you in, I'd think you could try a little attentiveness," Tonks retorted.

Ginny frowned. "I _am _paying attention," she told the older girl. "I happen to know a lot of things that you don't, _and _I also am the only one here who knows _exactly _how Lord Voldemort's mind works. I _have_ been inside it, lest you forget. So I think that we can all relax – I can work this out. Give it time."

Professor McGonagall nodded; Fred, George and Tonks embraced her tightly before letting her leave the Transfiguration office. _Damn. _Looking at her watch, Ginny realized that Muggle Studies was over. She had missed the entire test. _I'll apologize during my lunch break, and ask when I can take it at some stage in my free time_.

Ginny was free at that particular moment, but she didn't feel like going to see Professor Wyling just then. She had a lot on her plate, and the plate probably wasn't even big enough. It was times like this that Ginny wondered why it was that suicide didn't appeal to her.


	16. Game For Two

**A/N: **Voila. Chaptoire Dix-Seis. I don't know what chapter is in French, so I made it up. Oh well. Draco and Ginny fight.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Sixteen: Game For Two**_

_**DRACO**_

Everyone noticed a difference in Ginny. Whispers around the school that were more like shouts told Draco that only her boyfriend, her best friend, and her brother knew why. _She tells the weak, arrogant hero, Potter – but not me_, Draco thought darkly as he dressed one morning. The cold was truly settling in, and anyone who wasn't partially insane wouldn't be caught without a scarf – school crest, or otherwise.

Draco had wanted to ask Ginny how she was doing, but every time he drew close enough to the sixth-year he was frightened away by her suddenly-fearful eyes with a deer-caught-in-headlights expression. Today, he decided, that would change.

Pulling on dark-green gloves, he left the Slytherin dungeons, his school bag bouncing on his waist. Draco knew that Ginny generally came down to breakfast late, and so had timed his leaving the dungeons so that he would probably meet her in the Entrance Hall. He imagined bumping into her: _"Oh, Ginny, what a surprise to see you here, at this time_!" Hehe.

Draco wasn't sure if he actually expected for it to work, and so when he emerged from the dungeons' side-door and saw a sleepy female Weasley descending the main stairs, he was quite astonished at his own cleverness.

"Oh, hey Ginny," Draco called up the steps, raising one hand in a half-wave.

Ginny stopped, and looked at him, hard. "Hey," she said, but there was no friendly manner in her voice or her face. She continued down a few more paces, but then paused again. Draco quickly calculated the number of steps between them – twenty-four. _Is this a simple problem, like everyone thinks, or is she actually having a__** trust**__ issue_?

"Are you okay, Ginny?" Draco asked, forcing the syllables past his reluctant tongue and out into the ill-at-ease air between the two students. "You've been sort of -"

"_Will people just asking me if I'm okay_?!" Ginny snapped. "I – am – _fine_! Get it into your head, everyone!" she glared defiantly down at Draco, twenty-four steps down.

Unsure of whether this was a good or a bad move, Draco took a step up the stairs. Instantly he knew which it was: Ginny flinched and moved back three stairs, nearly stumbling over each stride of her hasty retreat.

"Ginny!" Draco exclaimed. "What is _wrong_?" he hated every inch of his brain for letting his do this, but he let concern into his face, and was suddenly near-drowned in emotions, so that he nearly fell down the one step he stood on.

Ginny's face blazed. "I'm sorry if some parts of my life don't include you!" she yelled. Then, she plunged into quietness, stared at her feet, and Draco saw a million feelings swirling through her eyes.

"Why do you hate me now?" Draco asked, feeling his eyes bite with tears that he bluntly refused to give way to. "Have you gone to everyone else's side?"

Ginny looked up, and said in a voice so soft that it was barely audible, "I don't hate you, and I'm not angry at you." She moved down several steps until she was almost level with Draco's blue eyes. "_I'm scared for you_."

The seventeen-year-old only just caught her words. When he stepped forwards to ask her why, Ginny brushed past him, a thousand words unspoken, and carried on to the Great Hall. Draco was left confused and hurt, not understanding what was going on and why it was. He heaved a sigh, and resumed his journey to breakfast, alone.

Draco saw her across the four house tables, talking quietly to Granger. She seemed so wary, like a hare that's ready to run away at the slightest noise. Today her hair was in a low ponytail, strands of shorter red hair falling into her face, and Draco felt angrier than ever.

_I have no friends except for Ginny and Myrtle. And now I only have Myrtle, because Ginny's throwing a Potter by being grumpy and annoyed and arrogant_, he thought to himself, cramming bacon into his mouth, as if he was thinking that if he could stuff enough pork products into his mouth, Ginny might come over an apologize. However, this idea went down dismally as she finished her breakfast before he did, and flounced from the hall dramatically, leaving a stunned Gryffindor table in her wake.

Draco groaned and slumped forwards, resting his pale chin on the wooden table. _Great_. That left him with only one friend. Myrtle. He peered at his watch to check that he had enough time in his first free period, then finished his breakfast and headed towards the abandoned girls' bathroom on the second floor.

Selecting to go the long way, as opposed you using a collection of secret walkways, Draco headed around past the Defence Against the Dark Arts block and –

Draco's heart squashed itself flat and dived down until he couldn't work out where it had gone, it must have left his body –

_Ginny. And. Harry. Kissing_.

Draco tried to say something, but couldn't… and then he noticed that Ginny's hair had darkened to brunette and curled; she had grown taller and chunkier and – _Granger_. Potter and Granger, standing together, pressed against the wall, kissing heatedly as if there was no tomorrow.

Then a thought struck Draco. _But Potter's going out with Ginny_! Maybe that was why she was suddenly so angry and withdrawn. "Myrtle," he muttered, needing someone to talk to about all of his ideas, and he ran down the corridor, past the oblivious snogging Gryffindors, and into the girls' toilets.

"Myrtle!" Draco gasped out, slamming the door behind him. "I need to talk to you!" There was a silence as Myrtle floated to the top of the toilet cubicle, peering curiously at the Slytherin in front of her.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Myrtle asked, frowning at his desperate, angry, sad, confused face. "Are you alright?"

"You know how I was saying how Ginny's gone totally weird and reserved and no-one can get through to her?" Draco said, crossing the bathroom to Myrtle and looking up into lifeless grey eyes. "I think I've found out why."

Myrtle tilted her head, interested. "I'm listening," she said, dropping out of sight, unlocking the cubicle door and floating out, towards Draco.

"Well, I just saw -"

"This should be _fascinating_, I'm sure," cut in a calm female voice. Draco spun to see Ginny, leaning against the door, tapping her feet impatiently on the broken blue tiles that made up the bathroom floor. "Tell me more."

Draco paled slightly, before turning faintly pink. "Nothing," he said quickly, "I mean, I – never mind." He cast a glance sideways at Myrtle, then locking his gaze back onto the beautiful, angry, dangerous features of young Ms. Weasley.

"Tell me. What did you see?" asked Ginny, her voice low, and lethally quiet, eyes scorching in her face. Draco saw the Stone around her neck, burning with an intense heat that radiated her fury.

"Nothing!" Draco snapped. "If you don't want to tell me anything, I won't tell you anything!"

Ginny's look of hostility and anger slipped for a moment, replaced by wounded sadness, but then disappeared again to her rage.

"Yes, _Ginevra_, I think you'll find that two can play at that game, and I think you'll also find that I'm a damn good player, too," Draco snarled. "Now, what's your business is yours, and what's mine is mine. Neither concerns the other, and they need never meet." With a flourish of his cloak, Draco stepped past her, and strode moodily from the bathroom, wondering where that fabulous speech had come from.


	17. Hazel Dancing

**A/N: **ARGH! The chapters are getting longer and longer! Thank you so much to reviewers, you're like chocolate and a lack of algebra all squashed together… heh. Yeah. Quick Summary: Draco and Ginny apologize.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Seventeen: Hazel Dancing**_

_**GINNY**_

Ginny realized after Draco's tantrum in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom that being wary and keeping to herself was only making her more enemies – which, while Lord Voldemort was after her, was not something she needed. She was trying to apologize to Draco, but in a funny sort of way, he had somehow managed to disappear off the face of the earth.

_The school honestly isn't __**that**__ big_, Ginny thought as she headed towards Hagrid's Hut. _I honestly can't see where he could go_. She had given up searching for Draco, and now went about her daily life in the hope that she would, at some point, bump into him. She knocked on Hagrid's door, blowing out her breath in a puff of grey mist.

The days had grown colder still, and now thin frost coated every blade of grass like a crisp white jacket. The ground was frozen, and special charms had to be placed around the Herbology greenhouses to keep the plants alive. That particular Friday the sky was a glorious blue, with not a cloud in sight and the sun shining merrily in a futile attempt to melt the bitter winter away.

Ginny waited, stamping her feet to shake feeling back into her toes, but, as seconds, and then minutes, progressed, no-one answered the door. "Grr," she said, "damn Hagrid's social life. He complains that I never visit, but when I do, he's not in. Damn."

_What now_? It was a nice enough day, and the Hogwarts gardens looked particularly lovely; Ginny felt partial to go and see the surviving flowers that had conquered cold. Trudging up the frozen dirt-path, and turning to make her way across the Hogwarts ground, she found that her passage was blocked; Ginny looked up into Draco Malfoy's face.

Warmth flooded Ginny's features as a feeling of embarrassment drowned out all other emotions, and she felt as though it was a scorching day of summer, in place of late November. "Oh," she said, "hi." Draco didn't speak, but nodded curtly down at her. He side-stepped to avoid her neatly, but before he could continue on his way, Ginny blurted out, "I'm sorry for what I said and I really was and still am scared for you and I still think that you may just be coming up to be my best friend at Hogwarts."

Draco, foot still raised in mid-stride, hesitated for a moment, before stepping backwards and looked down into Ginny's face. "Do you mean that?" he asked, not allowing his voice to soften for her, but the shield in his eyes wavered – and fell.

Ginny's cheeks flamed; she nodded. She opened her mouth to say more, but closed it again, as if deciding against her words. She looked at her feet (she seemed to be doing this a lot lately), before bravely looking up at Draco again.

"Er," said Draco, clearing his throat uneasily, "I guess I'm – I'm sorry too. Sorry." Ginny nodded, and, feeling the niceties pull weaker, smiled, and took her cue to leave.

"Wait." Draco said hurriedly, and, when Ginny turned, she saw that his hand was hovering above her shoulder, as though he had tried to stop her from leaving but hadn't been able to. Blushing slightly, he asked, "Er – do you want to go for a walk? If you're not busy, I mean."

A smile pulled itself into view on Ginny's face, and she fell into step beside Draco as they continued together down the path.

"So why were you down this way?" Draco questioned. "Just a random trip, or…?"

"I went to see Hagrid," said Ginny, "but he wasn't there. It's so frustrating. He acts all upset because I never come and see him, but Luna and Harry and Ron and Hermione always do. I'm busy – I have a lot of work to do, and whenever I go there, Hagrid's not in!" she rolled her eyes.

"It's a little like that with Myrtle sometimes," said Draco, "I go to chat to her, she's off down the pipes – or sometimes, may I add, simply in a daydream and unable to hear me – and then the next day she's sobbing _Draco, Draco, you said you'd come and visit me_. It's a nightmare sometimes."

"By name, by nature," Ginny shrugged, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Draco's mouth dropped open. "Are you saying that she's called Moaning Myrtle for a reason?" he gasped.

Ginny giggled behind her hand. "Your words, not mine," she cackled, hazel dancing. Draco rolled his eyes. As they walked, the short hush that followed, broken only by crunching footsteps over frost, was interrupted by Ginny's statement of, "It's Ron's birthday today."

Draco looked questioningly at her. "Is it?"

Ginny shot him a withering glance. "No, I just made that up," she said sarcastically. "Yes, it's Ron's birthday." She pulled a face. "He's eighteen today. I got him a bar of soap, to symbolize his adulthood and how mum will no longer be able to buy him soap," she said solemnly.

Draco snorted, but hid it with a fake cough. "I didn't think you'd be one for symbolic gifts," he said thoughtfully, looking down at Ginny.

She immediately rounded on him, turning in front of him and walking backwards so that she could scowl up into his face. "And why would you be misled into such thinking?" she demanded, mocking anger with a pout and a stamp of her foot.

"Dunno." Draco shrugged, and the topic fell, so Ginny was astonished when he said, "I'll get him a present."

"_Why_?" Ginny frowned. "You hate his guts, and he hates yours. Especially after the whole coming-down-the-stairs-together thing," she pointed out. "That didn't help."

Draco bit his lip. "Well, I just think that maybe I should try and be friends with him. If I'm going to be friends with you, then I want to get rid of the tension and resentment between me and Weasley," he explained.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "I suggest that you start by calling him 'Ron'," she advised, and as Draco began to reel off possible presents, she found herself thinking, _if he wants to get my defensive, bigheaded brother a __**birthday present**__well, maybe he's not as bad as everyone thinks._ _Perhaps, for all of those years, he was just spoiled and misunderstood. Then again, that's what everyone said for Harry's ego, and they were definitely wrong_. _Oh well, at least Luna doesn't seem to mind his self-importance. Maybe she __**does**__, but she's too in love with him to care. Maybe -_

"Earth calling Planet Ginny," Draco drawled, smirking. "You've gone into your own world. I _asked _whether you think the broom-and-wand polish kit or the new cauldron would be a better gift for dear old Ronnie."

Completely ignoring Draco's question, Ginny threw out her feelings and thoughts – at him, rather than _to _him – because she felt that if she didn't, she would most likely sink in them. "Harry is in love with Luna Lovegood and he doesn't even try to hide despite the fact that he's still dating _me_!"

Draco's eyes widened slightly, and mystification was apparent in his pale face, but he nodded, to show that he was listening. Ginny had at first turned an interesting shade of pink after admitting what she felt to him, but now, with renewed confidence, told him everything that she knew, what she had heard in Hagrid's Hut, and all of her personal opinions on the whole thing. Afterwards, she sensed a weight like a block of lead being inched from chest, and Ginny released a deep breath that she hadn't known she was even holding.

"Potter and _Luna_?" Draco said, with confusion almost written on his forehead. "Potter. Likes._ Luna_. _I see_. No, I don't – why does Potter fancy Loony Lovegood?"

Ginny glared. "Her name is Luna, don't call her Loony, and why do you find it so hard to believe that Harry has a crush on her?" she asked.

Draco hesitated.

"_Tell me_."

"God, you're fierce," Draco shivered, and then sighed, as if he really wasn't sure about telling Ginny; this only made her more annoyed. Then he said, pained to have to tell her, "I was going to tell Myrtle yesterday when you arrived. I was going down the Defence Against the Dark Arts corridor, and I saw Potter," silence. Draco added, "with Granger."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "I'm not sure I understand. With Hermione… or _with _Hermione?" she inquired suspiciously, hands on her hips in a way that everyone told her looked frighteningly alike her mother.

Draco cringed. "The second," he said. "_With_ Granger. If you must know, they were sort of… making out."

_My boyfriend. And my best friend. MAKING. __**OUT???!!?!?**_Ginny was too shocked to say anything for a few seconds, and then she whirled around, letting out a short scream. "Omigod, that stupid _bitch _is supposed to be my best friend! I trusted her, I told her _everything_, all of my secrets! She was the only one I told about being in love with Harry, she helped me to ask him out, and _how does she repay me_? _**By snogging his face off**_!" Ginny screeched.

_Must – kill – Harry – Mione – rip – kill – how – dare – she – I'll – murder – him_

Ginny launched herself forwards towards the Hogwarts building. _I'll climb the bloody __**wall**__ if I have to! _She leapt for the grand Entrance Hall doors, but then arms folded around her waist and Draco dragged her backwards.

"Ginny! Calm… this is why I didn't want to _tell _you!" Draco panted. "Calm down… calm down..."

"Don't you tell me to calm down, Malfoy!" Ginny snarled. "_My best bloody friend bloody snogged my bloody boyfriend_!" She wrenched herself forwards again, clawing the air frantically for some purchase, to drag herself towards Harry and Hermione, anything…

"Ginny, you don't _really _want to kill Harry and Hermione -"

"Malfoy, if you don't _shut up_ and stop acting like a ruddy psychiatrist then I'll kill you too, for God's sake!" Ginny screeched, writhing.

"Ginny, Ginny, calm down, you don't like Harry anyway, Hermione was never a real friend to you, Luna's your best friend, she hasn't done anything to hurt you. Luna can't help that Harry's attracted to her, and she can't help that she's attracted to him, but she hasn't done anything based on that, she would never betray you, she's your best friend, not Hermione, just calm down, Ginny, just calm down, you don't even fancy Harry anymore…"

Ginny gasped for air as she wriggled, trying to get away from Draco's grip. He was saying nonsense softly into her ear, the same things over and over again, but it was all true, and she was tired now, too tired to kill Harry or Hermione.

"Mione," Ginny said tiredly, "Harry." She was too exhausted to do anything, and she couldn't be bothered anymore. "Why are they so mean?" she said pathetically, like a six-year-old who had her toy taken away by the Big Girls. She fell against Draco, weak and hurt. The world was too nasty for her; she just wanted to collapse into Draco's arms and stay there forever, leaning sadly against his chest. And Ginny was gone; all that existed was the _hrr_ of Draco's soft breath and the feel of his arms around her waist.

Then, Dennis Creevey, a prefect, and his girlfriend, a little Indian girl called Anchee Salil in fourth-year Hufflepuff came running through the Entrance doors, laughing, hand in hand. The sound of their merriment made Ginny jolt into reality, and she jerked away from Draco, shivering as the lack of his warmth left her cold and damp.

There was a silence as Draco and Ginny stood together – but no longer awkward, as they knew each other too well for that. "It looks like it might snow soon," said Ginny hopefully, glancing up at the clouds.

"Maybe," Draco said, and as he looked back down at Ginny, she saw that all barriers and guarded shields had fallen from his face… just for her.

Ginny smiled. "Cross your fingers," she told him bossily, "or I'll cross them _for _you… just kidding," she threw a teasing grin in his direction, "I have to go and mentor Pippa Tonks, I'll see you later?"

Phillipa-May Tonks was Professor Tonks' youngest child. She was a scrawny second-year who, unfortunately, wasn't a Metamorphmagus, and had instead adopted the bright-pink-and-ink-black-striped hair that the Professor had been wearing when Pippa was born. Pippa wasn't very bright, and Ginny had agreed to tutor the stubborn, fierce, but brave little girl – _hey, she reminds me of myself_, Ginny had admitted the year before.

Draco grimaced. "Good luck," he said, "and, yeah, I'll see you around, I suppose."

Nod-nod-nod, went Ginny's head, and again, with their farewells, she found herself standing, embarrassed and a little awkward, wondering what to do next. _Maybe I should hug him_, she thought. _I always hug Harry and Luna and Mione and Ron…_ She sort of held out her arms stiffly; if Draco wanted to hug her, he could, but otherwise, it (hopefully) would just look like she was stretching.

Draco shuffled his feet, not making any move to do anything, so Ginny shrugged, a start of a burning blush growing on her cheeks at the small, unimportant rejection, said, "Bye then," quickly, and left – and as she looked over her shoulder before heading into the Entrance Hall, she could have sworn she saw a dizzy smile on Draco's face.

**A/N:** So they're friends now, and not arguing anymore, but sort of shy… how cute. Please review!! –grin-


	18. Hug For a Death Eater

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Draco gets yelled at. And he throws up. Sorry. Had to be done.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Eighteen: Hug For a Death Eater**_

_**DRACO**_

The weather grew colder still, and as Draco scaled the step-ladder to Divination, he felt as though from just touching the frozen wood, he might freeze too. His Hufflepuff classmates seemed to agree, as when he entered the small chamber, they were shivering and huddling together to keep warmth.

Draco sat in his usual seat near the front – it was like sitting on ice – and wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, burying his stinging nose in the warm fabric.

He looked up, to the sound of Professor Trelawney's shuffling footsteps, approaching the class. "Good morning, children," she said mystically. Silence followed. Trelawney frowned. "Hm. _That's _not right. I said 'Good morning, children'!" she sang brightly.

There was a general unenthusiastic mumble passing through the chamber. No-one liked being called a child, and they didn't like being sang at. _Why's Trelawney so happy today? She's usually all doom-and-gloom,_ Draco thought to himself as he took his books out of his school bag.

"Page one-seven-six, please, students. Today is a _theory _lesson. Read quietly and take notes – but be warned, if you feel an urge to jump to your feet and sing 'Praise Be The House-Elf Knee', _do not do so_, or you will be scarred with spattergroit forever…" Professor Trelawney warned them, pushing her glasses further up her nose with long, trembling fingers.

Draco raised an eyebrow at this, but gave no objection, and opened his textbook, muttering under his breath, "I'll keep that in mind." _The parts of a crystal ball… the globe… the foot… the stand… the smoke…_ His eyes were growing heavy in the cold as he grew number and number… and then –

_**PAIN.**_

Burning, burning, his arm was on _fire_, he felt like he could scream, he was already shouting, he'd fallen off of his chair and he was lying on the icy, hard floor, twisting as he gripped his arm tight, hoping to cut off circulation, _make it stop, make it stop_ –

"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor Trelawney's voice cut through, "Are you alright? Oh _no_, I _told _you not to jump and sing the House-Elf song! Now look what you've done! _Quick_! To the Hospital Wing!"

Aware that everyone was staring at him and hissing, "attention-seeker" to each other, Draco hauled his bag onto his shoulder and slid down the ladder, landing hard on his backside on the marble floor. Standing, skidding, sprinting as fast as he could, _get to the boy's bathroom_, running, slamming through the door.

Draco tried to call out, to see if anyone was in there, but his throat was constricted and he couldn't breathe to shout. He kicked each cubicle door open – all empty – slammed the bathroom door shut, ground out, "Impentrio," and then threw himself sideways towards the sinks and the mirror.

He let go of his arm and gripped the side of the sink, so tight that his knuckles bulged and turned white. Draco's knees buckled; he leaned forwards and vomited into the sink, moaning repeatedly, "please… stop…"

_The mirror_.

Draco looked up, and for a moment, only saw his own pale, pointed (and now slightly green) face, with platinum hair falling all over the place – but then it changed. Draco knew that he was now in a mirror over Bellatrix Lestrange's mantelpiece, in her dining room. He was looking at the Death Eater's, gathered in the house, most massaging their forearms, grunting with the ache of the Dark Marks' calling.

"My Lord," Draco rasped, bowing his head. As his head ducked down, he saw his quivering elbows, and realized that he was shaking.

Lord Voldemort turned in his high-backed chair, focusing a beady scarlet glare on the seventeen-year-old boy. "You told me that the Stone of Montol would be mine by Christmas," he hissed. "It is December now -"

"But it is only early days, my Lord!" Draco gasped, and then realized his mistake. _He had interrupted Lord Voldemort_.

"Do not interrupt me!" Lord Voldemort snarled, slamming his hands down on the table. Nagini jumped slightly, and coiled tighter around his master's shoulders, purring defensively.

Draco stooped down, averting his gaze from the mirror. "I apologize, my Lord," he croaked, his throat still sore. When he looked up again, he saw that Bellatrix Lestrange was smirking, her arms folded smugly across her chest, black eyes sparkling maliciously.

"You told me that the Stone of Montol would be in my hold by Christmas," Lord Voldemort continued, "and it is now December. That, in my book, counts as Christmas – I never celebrated the ridiculous holiday. The point _is_, Malfoy… _where is the Stone_?"

Draco gulped. "I'm – I'm getting it," he stuttered. "I swear I am. The girl, Ginny, Ginny Weasley, she's too strong. I'm getting to her. She's getting weaker." A lie, _anything_, "if I can have some more time, I'll be able to destroy her. Then nothing can get in your way, my Lord."

Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously as he eyed Draco, and then the Slytherin felt a sharp probe at the edge of his mind. _Bang_, just like Draco's father had taught him, the young boy was conjuring images of him hexing Ginny, pinning her against a wall, shouting at her, cursing her, sneaking up on her, waving a knife at her –

"Very well," said Lord Voldemort curtly. "I'll leave you to it. Be warned, Malfoy, that my patience is growing thin."

The probe left Draco's mind, and the seventeen-year-old sighed with relief. "Thank you, my Lord," Draco said. "I'll get the Stone to you as soon as possible."

Lord Voldemort sat down, glancing icily around the dining room. "I shall expect to hear from you very soon," he said coldly, and then Draco was thrown back into the boys' bathroom. Feeling as though he might be sick again, he stood slowly, holding a hand to his head tentatively. "Oh, hell," he muttered, staggering to the wall, slumping against it, and sliding down to the floor.

Draco pulled up his sleeve – the Dark Mark wasn't throbbing anymore, but it was still tender and sore. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he limped to the door, performed the counter-curse to open the locks on the door, and shuffled in the general direction of the stairs. He had no idea where he was going but he was cold and miserable and he wanted a hug.

**A/N:** Aw, Dracie-wacie wants a hug. _Weeell too bad_!! Coz he isn't gonna _get _one. … Random. Don't Ask. REVIEW. Or die. Your choice. XD


	19. A Declaration of Peace

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Ginny sort of beats up Harry (YAY!) and she discovers something interesting (OOOOH) and she disses Draco (Draco got buuurned). Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Nineteen: Declaration of Peace**_

_**GINNY**_

Colder the days became, and harsher the nights – but with all of that came snow, and lots of it. Instead of the flimsy frost on the grass, it was a proper, thick carpet of white that fell every night, and sometimes during the day, too.

"_Ron_!" Ginny screeched, running to him bravely through the blaze of the war. "Man down, man down," she yelled desperately to Luna.

Luna began frantically propelling ammunition at the opposition as Ginny crouched beside her weak, dying brother. "No, Ron," she begged, "you can't die. _Don't leave m- _**OW!**" Rubbing snow out of her face, she glared at the opposition, yelling, "Harry, I was saying my final farewell to Ron! That was _so _uncalled for!"

"Yeah," Ron agreed, sitting up, "we let you say your final farewell to Mione."

Hermione heard her name and sat up – she had been wise enough to die with a book, so that for the rest of the snowball-war she would have something to do – and said, "That _was_ a bit harsh, Harry."

Harry blushed, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry, Gin," he called across the battlefield.

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny grunted, standing up and shaking snow out her ponytail. "Just let me at least say bye to the dead before massacring me next time." She pulled Ron to his feet and they returned to their fort, piling up a stock of snowballs before she crowed, "_Let the war begin_!"

Instantly, balls of crunched-up snow were flying in all directions, as well as warrior-cries, laughter and the occasional yelp of pain. "This means war!" Ron yelled. "_Attack!"_

With a crazy shout, Ginny hurdled over the wall of their fort and raced towards the enemy's fort, charming snowballs to chase Harry and Hermione. "_Get them_!" Ginny hollered, pointing her wand at the opposition. "_Locomotor snowballs_!"

With a shriek, Hermione ran away, ducking behind a tree. Ginny swirled her wand and pointed it at Harry's retreating back. The snowballs pursued the seventeen-year-old Gryffindor happily, and then slammed into the back of his head.

"Score!" Ginny cheered, punching the air and kissing her wand. "One-nil to Ginny!"

Harry spun, a mischievous grin on his face. Suddenly he was hurtling towards Ginny, snowball in hand. "It's going down your jumper, Ginny," he hooted as he advanced towards her.

"Don't you dare, Harry!" Ginny yelled at him, but it was too late. Ice was penetrating the warmth of her jumper, and she was being wrestled to the ground. "No!" She kicked out at him, slapping him, twisting away. They both fell to the ground, and then Ginny was suddenly very aware of Harry's warm weight on top of her. She was staring up into sparkling emeralds that she had fallen so devastatingly for, and he was staring down into swirling pools of hazel.

"Hey, Gin," he said softly, and in that moment Draco's words flashed back to her: _"with Granger. If you must know, they were sort of… making out_." Ginny wanted so badly to push him off but her arms were pinned down.

_I just have an idea… the final test_, Ginny thought devilishly, and then said huskily, "Kiss me."

Harry's smile faded for the briefest second – _a__**ha**_Ginny's mind snapped, _I've got you now, you lying pig_ – and then returned, like nothing had happened. "Well, actually, I -"

Ginny let out a growl, interrupting her boyfriend's speech, and then she whacked her head forewards. "_OW_!" someone yelled, and then the weight was off of her arms. Ginny's head was spinning from the headbutt, but she focused enough to shove Harry off, stand, and march away briskly.

As she neared a narrow door that lead into the kitchens, Ginny slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. _God, that was stupid_, she snarled at herself, _I just head-slammed my boyfriend! Hell, his skull is hard – he must be on steroids or something. It would explain a lot_. "Ow," Ginny muttered, rubbing her head tenderly as she pushed into the kitchen.

"Ms. Weezy!" a small house-elf in assorted socks and ties said cheerfully, shuffling out and hugging Ginny's knee. "What may Dobby get you? Dobby is making apple pie tonight. Dobby knows that Ms. Weezy likes apple pie, and thinks, _I will make some for her_."

"Aw, thanks Dobby," Ginny said warmly, though still hidden behind her hand as she clutched her head, "but I'm not really hungry. I'll have some at dinner, 'kay?"

Dobby nodded eagerly, and shuffled away again. Ginny smiled fondly after him, before continuing up to the ground floor. There she saw a notice-board that she hadn't noticed before, and on it, in fat white letters on a red-and-green striped background, were the words: THE YULE BALL RETURNS.

_Oh hell, not the Yule Ball again_. Ginny groaned. "That was bad enough the _first _time," she grumbled, but she moved closer to see it. It was patterned with snowflakes and dancing snowmen. Tacky. Very tacky.

_**The Yule Ball Returns**_

_As a declaration of peace between our partner schools, throughout the difficulties that arose three years ago, and then throughout the difficulties that had taken place afterwards, we have been invited to a Yule Ball, this time scheduled in the le Chateau Grande of Beauxbatons School for Girls. Also present will be the Bulgarian boys' school of Durmstrang._

_All students are to be on their best behaviour at all times. If you intend to go, you must meet on Christmas Eve (December the twenty-fifth, for those of you who do not celebrate the event and are unaware of its time) at seven o'clock for Group Apparation to Beauxbatons School. If you are staying behind, you must go to the library at six o'clock so that you are not caught in the way and accidentally Apparated to France. The Yule Ball is open to fourth years and older._

_Sincerely, Headmistress Dolores Umbridge_

Ginny's eyebrows raised. "France?" she read dubiously. Then glee came over her. "_France_! I'm going to Fra-ance, I'm going to Fra-ance," she sang, twirling, and punching the air. "Fra-ance, Fr-a-a-ance, going to France to da-ance!"

"And you are going to France _why _exactly?"

Ginny jumped, startled, at Draco's voice. She turned quickly, face colouring quickly, and easily spied the smirk spreading across his fair face. "There's another Yule Ball," Ginny explained, pushing away her blush and tilted her chin up to look directly at Malfoy, "in France this time. At Beauxbatons. I bet Ron will love _that_, with all the Veela around. I hated the Yule Ball at the Triwizard Tournament, but _France_!" Ginny grinned. "It should be fun."

Draco nodded, but he didn't seem very enthusiastic himself. "I suppose," he said dully, folding his arms and staring vacantly at the notice-board.

Ginny pouted. "Oh, be more positive," she said, poking his fore-arm fiercely; he gasped, sharply in-taking more air than Ginny would have thought could fill his lungs, and grabbing at his arm.

"Don't – do that – again," he snapped, suddenly angry as he slouched against the wall. Draco exhaled very quickly, with a "hph" sound, and then looked up at her, resting his forehead in his hand.

Ginny watched him quietly, trying to think of something to cheer him up, or comfort him. Then, a brainwave. She laughed; Draco looked up.

"What's so funny?" he said bitterly, glaring at her, shooting ice-blue daggers into her hazel gaze.

Ginny sniggered. "I head-butted Harry," she said, struggling to keep a straight face, "on the forehead. Then I shoved him into the snow and left him there."

Despite Draco's sour mood, a smirk found its place on his lips. "I bet he screamed like a girl," he couldn't help but say happily.

Ginny bit back a laugh, and nodded earnestly. "Everyone was crowding around him like he'd _died _or something. And I just walked away – staggered, mind you," she added, "I didn't come off of that fight with nothing."

This only made Draco's smirk increase in size, and Ginny poked her tongue out at him. "Hmph!" she blew a raspberry at him, curling her lip slightly in a _well, I don't really care, so there, hahaha to you_ gesture. "So how about that Ball?" she said contemplatively.

Draco shrugged. "I don't really know," he said, and started to walk away. For one upsetting moment, Ginny thought that he was leaving her and just going, but then he looked back over his shoulder and jerked his head forewards in a _come on then_ movement, and Ginny skipped cheerfully after him.

"All of the girls' will be desperate for a date," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. Then she looked curiously at Draco, eyeing him up and down, putting on a mocking expression that she liked what she saw, "you might be fair game, you know."

Draco blanched, and then all of the colour returned to his face, plus some more, as he blushed furiously. "I'm – I'm not -" he stammered, pulling at the longer blonde hairs at the back of his head.

Ginny laughed. "Just kidding, Draco," she said, "you have nothing to worry about. No-one will ask you, and no-one will say yes if you ask them."

There was a pregnant silence as Ginny waited for her Slytherin friend to catch onto the cruel diss. _Wait for it…_ Five… four… three… two… one… -

"_Hey_!" Draco gasped, staring at her, annoyed and shocked at her sarcastic rudeness. "Are you saying that I'm ugly?"

Ginny couldn't hide her smile. "Maybe."

A/N: LOL Ginny is being cheekyyy. AND DON'T WORRY, DRACO, YOU'RE ANYTHING BUT UGLY. Please review.


	20. Funeral Speeches and Muggle Games

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Sorry, but I had to split this chapter into two, so there's _two _chapters of Draco side-by-side, because I was writing, and it went past nine pages, past ten, so I have to divide it. Sorree. Anywho, Draco meets two lovely ladies, but neither of them can match up to the one in his heart.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Twenty: Funeral Speeches and Muggle Games**_

_**DRACO**_

Nervous. Muttered _you look nice_s and _hello_s, trying to prepare, but it was like preparing your funeral speech. "Hey, how's it going?" he tried, throwing in a spunky wink and a cheeky grin. _ I look like I'm gay_. _The last thing I want is for the Beauxbatons and the Durmstrang students to all thing I'm gay. _Hair slicked back. Hair messed up. Hair parted neatly. Hair spiked with gel. Bald?

"Oh, this is pointless," snapped Draco at the mirror, glaring at his stubborn reflection.

"Ouch, you're a right little ray of sunshine, aren't cha?" sang the mirror.

"Shut it, glass-face, or I'll break your reflective arse," Draco told it irritably, and attempted to fix his hair, to no avail. "I give up." He shook his head insanely, sending his hair flying everywhere, and then flipped his head back, tossing the unruly hair out of his blue eyes, and then focused on the rest of his Yule Ball attire.

He wore a smart dress robe in a shade of grey that made Draco look less pale, with a light-blue waistcoat designed to bring out his eyes. Lucius Malfoy had ordered it from the tailors' the summer of Draco's fifth year – Draco had never worn it, but now he clung to anything of his father that he possessed. Unnaturally shiny leather shoes clothed Draco's feet, hiding bright orange socks (for confidence, Loony Lovegood once told him. It was a load of rubbish, but… just in case).

Draco took a deep breath, and turned slowly to inspect every inch of his outfit. _It'll have to do_, he decided – he knew that it wasn't perfect, but, funnily enough, couldn't think of how it could be _more _perfect. He shrugged, and tucked his wand into his inside pocket. _Ready, Draco_? He asked himself. Draco nodded at his own reflection, and then moved from the seventh year common room, feeling as though he might run back and be sick.

The dungeons were colder than ever, now that winter had truly set in, and Draco could tell by the intense hush that it had snowed, creating a sound-proofed wall to the ceiling. He clenched his hands into fists to give himself courage, and moved more quickly to the steps. In twenty days, Draco hadn't found the courage to ask Ginny to the dance, and he doubted that Myrtle would be able to come, but he intended to find Ginny and ask her as soon as he got to the Entrance Hall.

As he pushed open the dungeons' door, he saw a smiling Granger, in a shimmering dress of lilac, chatting to Parvati Patil, in gold robes, and Lavender Brown, in silver. Draco stayed close to the far wall, trying not to be seen. He would look very stupid if anyone found out that so far he did not have a date. He pushed open the Entrance Hall and was immediately engulfed in laughter, chatter and anticipation.

All of the students' tables had cleared, and replaced with a giant, slightly glowing, white circle that brushed the four walls, and the raised dais where the teachers' table sat. Almost every Hogwarts teenager above fourteen was milling around in the Entrance Hall, gossiping, or making predictions for what the night would hold, or commenting on others' outfits. Seeing this, Draco felt self-conscious, and skulked further back into the wall.

"_Students_!" Professor Umbridge trilled. Draco looked up at the Headmistess, and gagged. She was wearing a vile, frilly, pink dress with bows, lace and ribbons _everywhere_. She had even plastered make-up on her flabby face, and her hair was scraped into a bun, exposing a hideous, once-hidden neck. The other students seemed to agree with Draco's opinion, as an appalled silence fell. Not even Parvati and Lavender giggled shrilly. Then:

"Oh. My. God," a girl's voice was heard through the absolute quiet, "that is, quite honestly, the most ghastly thing I have ever seen."

"I think… I'm going… to be sick…" said another voice, and Draco recognized Ginny's disgusted tone.

"She's not _deaf_, Ginny," Granger's voice hissed. "Everyone can hear you."

Professor Umbridge couldn't possibly not have heard these comments, but she pretended that she had, and shook her ribbons out to all of their terrifying glory. "Students," she repeated, "the time has come. We are setting off to Beauxbatons School for Girls now; please, everyone, step into the Apparation circle."

There was a tremendous clatter of footsteps as six-hundred teenagers all crammed themselves into the same place; Draco stepped just inside the ring, not wanting to find himself wedged in the centre of a crowd of angry people who hated him. _Not the best situation to be in_, he mused as he waited, with hundreds of others, for something to happen.

"_Apparate_," all of the Professors cried together, pointing their wands at the circle. There was a flash of light that Draco saw, almost as though he was watching himself from above, and then the Entrance Hall disappeared, replaced with a swirling abyss of changing colours. Draco, who could Apparate, and took pride in being very good at it, only felt mildly nauseous; the younger ones all gasped and clutched at their mouths, trying to stop them from throwing up in the void.

"Don't worry," Draco said, aiming to reassure them that they wouldn't all die in a blaze of what looked like a rainbow on fire, swirling around them madly. His voice was thrown everywhere, but a few fourth- and fifth-years caught his words, and looked desperately to him for advice.

"Hold on," Draco called to them, "we'll be in France soo-" Before he could even complete his sentence, screams rang out as the world was yanked back into view. The seventh-years and the Professors touched down neatly, while the younger ones all landed ungraciously in a sprawling heap on the floor.

"OW!" "Gettoffme!" "Can I be sick now?" "Okay, whoever is touching my head… _get off_." A disarray of voices, at first muffled and then loud, strong, and heavily complaining, could be heard as the younger Hogwarts students picked themselves apart from the great heap, with help from the Professors. Seeing that help was probably needed, Draco made his way to pile of squirming bodies. _Maybe I can find Ginny, and valiantly rescue her from a pit of injured fourth-years_. The thought popped into his mind and spoke before he could squash it, and he blushed slightly at his own brain's daring to say such things.

Draco spotted the frightened fifth-year who he had struggled to comfort, and heaved her out of the mess. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked concernedly.

She moaned. "I feel like I've been hit by a bus," she mumbled, but she forced a weak smile at Draco. She was a petite, pretty girl with chesnut-coloured, wavy hair cascading around her shoulders, and bright, almond-shaped eyes that glimmered cloud-after-rain-grey in the faint light, constrating pale eye colour against olive skin. Her dress was the same colour, gathered at the waist and sparkling in its folds. "I'm Sanchia Corteza," she said, speaking her name with a Spanish lilt that lit up every syllable.

Draco nodded politely. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Was that your first time Apparating?" he asked.

Sanchia nodded, grimacing. "I hate it. Your first as well? No, you must have Side-Along Apparated before, you seemed to know what you were doing," she grinned.

Draco nodded again. "Well, actually, I know how to Apparate. I learnt last year – I'm seventeen," he explained, trying to hide his shame at being thought younger than he really was.

Sanchia looked shocked. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I thought you were sixth-year, I'm sorry. Is it fun to Apparate alone, or does it hurt like that one did?" she asked as she helped Draco to haul other people to their feet.

"It's okay, I suppose," Draco shrugged lightly. "It does hurt, but you get used to it after a while. I also Side-Along Apparated a lot with…" _my father_, he finished silently, but he left the spoken sentence at that, and looked at his shoes.

"Students," called Professor Umbridge sweetly. No-one answered. _"Students_!"

"OI!" yelled Professor Tonks. "Pay attention!"

Professor Umbridge glared at the twenty-three-year-old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. "I would prefer," she simpered, "if you could stick to _my _methods of calling attention." With that, she turned her fat back on Tonks and addressed the students. "Now that we've arrived, we can progress into the ballroom."

"They have a ballroom?" someone said incredulously.

"Yes," Professor Umbridge snapped, struggling to keep her saccharine attitude with such a bunch of retards. "Beauxbatons has a ballroom, now please, will you all restrain yourselves and _be quiet_." She scowled around at the crowd of irritated teenagers, and then continued, "again, I expect you to be on your best behaviour, and try not to only mingle with Hogwarts éstudents. Inter-school friendship, that is why we're here."

Draco saw Granger smirk at Weasley, for reasons he did not know and did not particularly care to know. But where was _Ginny_? He scanned the cluster of teenagers, but before he could get anywhere close to locating her, everyone shuffled into rows and rows and columns and groups.

The teachers swept through the grand doors, and applause broke out. Draco heard: "l'année du un! Ze first-years!" before the nervous, frantic first-years scuffled through to the ballroom. "L'année du deux! Ze zecond-years!" Slightly more calm second-years hobbled in. "L'année du trios! Ze fird-years!" More of the teenage cluster of students disappeared through the doors. "L'année du quatre! Ze fourth-years!" And again, the mulitude of Hogwarts pupil diminished further. "L'année du cinq! Ze fifth-years!" Sanchia cast Draco a wary glance before marching after the rest of the fifth-year girls, alerting him that his time was fast approaching. "L'année du seis! Ze sixth-years!" They were striding away before Draco could search for Ginny, and then there was that god-awful silence as they waited for their turn.

"L'année du sept! Ze seventh-years!" Oh no, oh no, not now – the boys were fast disappearing, and Draco had to hurry forwards so that the widening gap between Blaise Zabini and him was decreased. Then the ballroom came into view, and Draco felt his jaw slack and fall open.

It was a vast, circular chamber, with a raised dais in the centre, where an orchestra sat, fiddling with their instruments to get ready for the musical feast ahead. Around the edge of the room ran a crystal-clear stream, and on the far side of the chamber, the other side of the sparkling water, was a banquet on various buffet tables, with waiters clad in shimmering ice-blue tuxedos waiting. Scattered here and there were fountains of beautiful women, made of glossy marble and carved so amazingly that they seemed to be smiling _just _at Draco. Benches, here and there, beds of flowers, and everything was so pretty and ice-delicate that the hefty Bulgarian boys in their crimson and black looked extremely out of place.

The other Hogwarts students were all grouped together awkwardly, looking at the Durmstrangs and the Beaxbatons and assessing them carefully, whispering to each other. The foreign girls and boys were doing the same, inspecting the Hogwarts adolescents.

"Welcome, 'ogwarts students, and welcome Durmstrang students! I 'ope you 'ave a night _magnifique_! And now – dance!" Madam Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, stood. She was extraordinarily tall, with dark hair tied up at the top of her head, and jewels glittering everywhere on her figure.

"_Viktor_!" a voice cried, and then Granger ran forwards and wrapped her arms tight around a muscular Durmstrang man. Ronald Weasley turned green with rage and disappeared into the crowd. Draco smirked at the lovers' tiff, and then searched for Ginny –

"_Excusez-moi_?" said a delicate voice, and Draco turned to see a willowy girl with eyes like sapphires and hair flowing in a sheet of straight white-blonde around her bare shoulders. "May I 'ave zees dance?"

Draco stared, startled. "Er," he said, "sure." She tilted her head in a way that reminded him of Ginny – _not Ginny, some other person, Pansy, it must be Pansy _ - and it was then that he realized that he could not dance. Draco glanced over at where other people were starting to dance, and reached forwards for the girls' hand when she pulled a ribbon from her belt and handed it to him.

"Do 'ogwarts not know _le Danse du Rois_?" the girl asked. "Never mind, I teach you, _non_?"

Draco blinked. "Um," he said, "yeah, okay", pretending that he knew what she was saying. She placed one end of the ribbon in Draco's hand, and took the other end, and began weaving around him.

"It is… how to say… ze Dance of… Kings. Ze King of France danced zees with his ladies," the girl said, smiling broadly and showing neat, even teeth. "Follow my steps."

Draco stumbled after the girl, spinning clumsily and twirling her around the ballroom. As the melody progressed, he found that he didn't have to focus on his footsteps, and could look up into the girl's face. "I'm Draco," he tried, with a small smile.

The girl grinned. "_Je m'appelle Arlette_," she replied fluently, and when Draco stared blankly at her, she translated, "it means 'my name is Arlette'." She laughed, a smooth, merry laugh like that of a timid fairy, and spun in a full circle, her blue skirt swirling out. As her back was turned, Draco felt his eyes drift to the sea of students, looking for Ginny.

He found her.

Seeming to sparkle with light, dancing with a tall, strong Durmstrang man with a mop of wavy dark-blonde hair and an arrogant grin. An amazing dress in bright, dark green that came over her shoulders in wide straps, and then gathered, tight, around her chest, before falling loosely to her waist. Astonishingly, it had no sleeves, and there was nothing hiding the ugly welts on the inside of her arm. Spinning, laughing, curly hair like molten fire whirled out, skirt churning around her knees, green-slippered feet dancing across the marble floor, like a ballerina. Hazel eyes sparkling incredibly, striking Draco across the wide dance floor, shining like beacons despite the distance.

Draco's breath caught in his throat, and when Arlette grew annoyed and tugged at the ribbon, it merely slid from his grasp and pooled on the floor. _She's beautiful_. He vaguely heard a French voice, and felt a tugging on his sleeve, but nothing else mattered, just the look on her creamy, heart-shaped as she pirouetted and twirled and –

"_Pour l'amour du dieu, tu conard!_" Arlette snapped, wrenching the ribbon away and storming back to her friends. Draco glanced over his shoulder backwards after her, but when he returned his gaze to the fiery-haired beauty across the ballroom, she was gone.

"Trouble in Paradise?" a voice teased beside Draco, and before he could sort his face into something resembling a look of casual indifference, a smile had broken out, and he turned to see Ginny.

"It was hardly Paradise to start with," Draco commented dryly, and then as Ginny laughed, he felt that he had to say something, anything, that was important and meaningful. Draco had meant to say something emotional and sweet, but instead it came out as a garbled, "Eryolookbeautitonight."

Ginny frowned. "Say _what_?"

Draco blushed to the very roots of his hair. "You – er – you look beautiful…" he mumbled, looking at his hands as his face heated violently.

Ginny blushed, and she ducked her head too, a wave of red hiding her face. "Um. Thanks," she said softly. "You look… um… nice too… um. Yeah." An embarrassed quiet fell (apart from, of course, the noise of the Ball) and Draco wanted, more than anything, to crawl into a hole and die.

"D'you – Ginny, do you want to go for a walk?" he suggested, gesturing towards a doorway that seemed to beckon _explore me_. Ginny appeared to have the same thoughts, as she tilted her head in that familiar way, and nodded happily.

It was a long, long walkway with endless sculptures, all of stunning French women with flowing marble curls and waves around their feet. Gothic windows lined the left wall, showing glimpse of a snow-struck fantasy world, frozen fountains queuing fantastic gardens, where a lone buck wandered, looking majestically up at the castle.

"It's amazing here," said Ginny. "It's so different. I know Hogwarts so well, and here… it's like an alien version of the castle that we know, only more feminine and icy." She pulled her hair over one shoulder, combing it loosely with her fingers. Draco nodded, eager to strike up a conversation, but before he could say anything, Ginny piped up, "Truth or dare."

Draco looked quizzically down at her. "_What_?" he asked.

"It's a Muggle game. Just play it," said Ginny with a bossy grin. "You choose to either tell the truth or do one task that I tell you." Draco nodded again, unsure what the hell he was getting himself into.

**A/N:** Sorree that it's so long. Please review.


	21. Personal Bubble

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. This is the second part of the Yule Ball from Draco's point of view. Sorry to split it up. Draco and Ginny dance – as well as other things.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Twenty-one: Personal Bubble**_

_**DRACO**_

_Draco nodded, eager to strike up a conversation, but before he could say anything, Ginny piped up, "Truth or dare."_

_Draco looked quizzically down at her. "What?" he asked._

_It's a Muggle game. Just play it," said Ginny with a bossy grin. "You choose to either tell the truth or do one task that I tell you." Draco nodded again, unsure what the hell he was getting himself into._

…

"Fine. Er," said Draco, trying to decide. "Truth." Half-frightened of the question, but half-intrigued by the game and the thoughts of finding out more about Ginny, he looked towards her for her inquiry.

"Hmm," said Ginny, stroking her chin, "what's your full name, and who are you named for?" She grinned teasingly up at him, flashing hazel like the eyes of a siren.

"Draco Ophius Malfoy," he replied, "named for my great-grandfather, Ophius, and my great-uncle, Drakonus." _And I despised both of them_, Draco added with a chuckle. He looked up at the ceiling, wondering if the two dead old cronies would be peering down at him – _no, don't be silly, Draco, they'd be looking __**up**__, wouldn't he? He's in __**hell. **_"Your turn."

"Truth."

"Same question."

"Ah, you're boring. Ginevra Molly Weasley – named for my mum, and one of my great-great-somethings from the seventeenth century or sometime like that," Ginny said with a shrug. "She's dead now, so I don't really have to care about her."

"Lucky you," Draco smirked.

"Your turn. Truth or dare?" Ginny grinned, hopping up and down cheerfully, her skirt flaring around her knees.

"Truth."

"Hmm… what is your deepest, darkest secret?" Ginny probed, seeming far too fascinated for such a simple game.

Draco's heart stopped for a whole fifteen seconds, before it began pumping violently. _How could she know? She couldn't know._ "I don't have one," he said immediately, knowing that she would see through his lie, but he couldn't tell the truth. _Tell the truth? Okay, here's the truth, I'm not sure that I can be your friend because you killed my parents, and I'm working for the Dark Lord who wants me to kill you, and – oh yeah! __**I think I'm falling in **__-_

"Right," Ginny said sarcastically, narrowing her eyes. "I believe you, sure." Under her gaze, Draco felt himself growing increasingly uncomfortable, but then she shrugged and said, "my go."

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth," said Ginny simply.

"Er. Um. Who were you dancing with earlier, from Durmstrang?" Draco asked quickly. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know, but he did, and he wanted to know _now_.

"Eril," replied Ginny. "He's nineteen, can you believe it? He's _still _at school. They probably go to Durmstrang until they're thirty. I mean, Viktor Krum is still there, and he's, what, twenty-one?" she laughed.

Draco felt a bubbling anger rise up in his chest and try to force its way out of his throat, but he swallowed it down, despite the fact that he would currently like nothing better to squash that stupid Durmstrang pretty-boy who wasn't smart enough to know the difference between a wand and a tree.

"Your go," said Ginny.

"Er. I think I'll try dare," he said, nervous about what this would hold for him. "But no embarrassing stunts or – or – anything like that," Draco added hastily.

Ginny's grin widened. "No embarrassing stunts, eh?" she cackled evilly.

"No, Ginny, no, don't -"

"_Fine_. You're boring. I dare you… to open that window, climb onto the roof below and stay there, in the snow, for two minutes," Ginny said, fighting to keep a malicious smile off of her face.

"Ginny!" Draco complained, but she was looking at him with a sparkle in her eyes, and suddenly he felt an urge to do it, to show her that he wasn't a coward. "Fine," he said flatly, and crossed to the nearest Gothic window. Ginny followed, watching interestedly, as Draco fumbled with the cold metal clasp, before swinging the window open. Instantly, a gust of frigid air struck him like a sledgehammer, and Draco regretted his choice. _I'm not backing down now_.

He glanced back over his shoulder; no-one was there, except for a highly amused Ginny. Draco hitched one leg up onto the windowsill, and then clambered up, slipping slightly on the frost-encrusted surface. He peered down through swirling snow and saw the roof, some feet below. An idea struck him, and a devilish grin found its place on his lips.

"Do I _have_ to?" he whined, staring up sadly at Ginny. As expected, she nodded her head, red curls flying, and Draco continued down, climbing. _Now! _He let go of the wall, and, with a shout, allowed himself to plummet down.

"_Draco_!" her voice screaming, ringing in his ears, high and long.

"Immobilius," he whispered, and his fall was cushioned before he dropped himself awkwardly into the snow. He lay, spread-eagled, shivering slightly as his face pressed against the snow, waiting for Ginny's _priceless_ reaction.

"Draco, oh God, no," Ginny shrieked, and then she was clambering through the window, dress flailing in the harsh wind, crouching beside Draco, pure fear in her face.

"Gotcha," Draco whispered when she was close enough to hear him, and winked open one blue eye. "Cold out here, isn't it?"

Ginny gasped. "_Ohmi__**god**_Draco, never do that again, you moron!" she shouted. "Do you have _any _idea how freakin' _scared _you got me?!"

"I got the gist of it, yes," Draco said with a cheeky grin, and stood up, brushing snow off of his dress robes, but before he could do anything, something hard whacked him around the face, and he crumpled to the floor.

"You _retard_," Ginny snapped, shaking his fist and blowing on her smarting knuckles. "Don't _ever _try that sort of stunt again, or I'll kill you, you insensitive little -"

"Ow."

Ginny huffed, but she saw that Draco was actually in pain, and softened considerably. "Sorry," she said, pulling him to his feet, slender fingers wrapping around his long, cold ones. "You just _really _pissed me off."

Draco was looking away though, gazing down – through numerous, large windows, the ballroom could be seen, and a slow tune was trickling through the snowstorm, sprinkling music over the two cold teenagers. He turned to Ginny, and, feeling as though his next words were going to be extremely stupid, and as though he would much rather die, said, "Shall we dance?"

Ginny looked up at him curiously, but then smiled, and shyly took his hand. Not confident of what he was supposed to do, Draco put his other hand at the small of her back, and found that Ginny was blushing profusely; Draco was quite certain that he was exactly pale, either. Ginny slid one hand onto his shoulder – yes, he was _definitely _not pale now, heat flooding his face.

Side-step left, then right, then left, then twirl Ginny out. She lifted her hand, shyly spinning underneath, her hair nearly hitting Draco, and then moving forwards.

_Oh God, here it comes, here it comes – _the twang of the fiddle, Draco hands flying away, sweeping to her small waist, lift up, he was going to drop her (_that_ _won't_ _be_ _very_ _romantic_, a small voice said, very matter-of-factly, in the back of his head), twirling her around, smiling timidly down at him, and then letting his arms buckle so that she dropped down, surprisingly graceful, and turned, skirt swirling.

"I love this song," Ginny said, tilting her head as she side-stepped and twirled and moved delicately across the dimly-lit snow. She began to hum, a smile lighting up her face as she became aware that Draco could hear her.

"_I know, a place that we can go to  
A place where no-one knows you,_

_They won't know who we are_," she whispered, red curls fanning out with every step, her hands linked with Draco's. She was warm, considering that she was dancing in the snow in only a flimsy ball-gown, and Draco suddenly felt like he was the luckiest person in the world. The Stone of Montol was shining around her neck, reflecting the sparkle of every snowflake and her eyes shining even more brightly than that.

"_I know, a place that we can run to_

_And do all those things we want to,_

_They won't know who we are_," she murmured, her voice soft and sweet and strong all at the same time. It was like listening to something beautiful and something sad simultaneously. "You know the words, _Drakonus_," she teased.

"I don't," he lied; Draco had heard it many times. She looked disappointed, and looked away from him; before she could heave the sigh building up in her throat, the words were out, softly, "_Let me take you there,_

_I want to take you there,_

_I know, a place that we'd forgotten,_

_A place we won't get caught in,_

_They won't know who we are_."

Ginny looked up, astonished.

"Maybe I do know the words," said Draco sheepishly, and then a heavy silence fell – but for the first time, it wasn't awkward, and Draco felt perfectly content to just remain quiet. He tried to avoid looking into Ginny's face (it was like looking into the brightest, most beautiful star in the sky), but her eyes were calling him, and he obliged.

Spinning, slowly, Draco knew that, without doubt, this was the best moment of his life, and suddenly the music stopped, became faster, and the peaceful, serene moment was broken abruptly, leaving Draco holding Ginny far closer than he had realized, in the snow, protected only by her warmth.

"Er," he said, "should we go back inside?" Ginny nodded, and Draco let go of her. He lead the way back to the window, and cleared all frost from each step so that she wouldn't slip, as he had pretended to.

Up in the hallway, now slightly coated with melting snow flung in through the open window, Draco pulled the window closed and continued back towards the ballroom with water from disappearing snow seeping through his dress robes.

"Are you glad you came?" Ginny asked, halfway towards the grand oak doors, turning to look up at the Slytherin.

Draco nodded. "More than anything," he said quietly. As he looked at her, he found himself wanting to tell her his deepest, darkest secret after all. "Ginny, I -"

"Aah!" Ginny yelped, and she nearly collapsed in a heap on the floor. "What the hell? Draco, this isn't funny, stop it."

"What isn't?" Draco asked, nonplussed. He stepped forwards to help her up, but found that he couldn't move. "Ginny, what's going on?"

She glared at him. "Ha-ha, Draco, now take the hex off!" she said irritably, hauling herself to her feet and brushing dirt from her swirling green skirt. Then she saw the bewildered look on his face. "Wait – you're not doing this?"

Draco shook his head slowly. "Why can't we move?" he asked, not certain that he wanted to know the answer. Ginny's eyes widened with horror, and she looked up. She swore under her breath, her eyes not leaving the ceiling.

"What -" Draco glanced upwards, and saw a small sprig of green leaves, shaking with laughter. "Oh, bloody hell no."

"_Have fun_," the mistletoe squeaked, quivering with excitement.

Ginny turned scarlet, but she pretended that it wasn't happening. "Er… well, come on, then," she said, "let's get this over with." Draco reddened, trying to act as though his mind wasn't reeling. Ginny was looking up at him expectantly, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

"Well," said Draco, "you know, you're actually -"

"You don't have to flirt with me first," Ginny commented dryly, only increasing the number of blood cells in Draco's normally pale face.

"I'm not -"

"Ginny?" called a female voice, and Draco looked over to see Granger approaching, skirts swirling behind her. Draco and Ginny were in shadow, but it could still become very awkward, and –

"Oh hell," said Ginny, realizing the same thing. "Not good, not good." She looked up into Draco's face, cringing as Granger drew closer and closer. Ginny sighed heavily. "Oh, for God's sake," she said, and she was standing on tiptoe, stepping into Draco's personal bubble – _oh God, oh God _– and then their lips met, holding together in a quick, chaste kiss, but it made Draco's insides squirm together in a ball of confusion, she was _just there_, the most beautiful thing on the planet –

and then she was gone.

Draco looked after her, but she was disappearing through the oak doors in a swirl of green fabric, beside Granger. He stumbled backwards, crashing into the wall, and then a dizzy smile lit up his pink face as he touched his fingers to his lips. _Wow_.

**A/N:** Eril is actually a Bulgarian name that means 'rival'. Hehe. Sorree that it's so long. Please review.


	22. Aberforth

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. This is late December now. Ginny learns something about the Stone and discovers something terrible.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Twenty-Two: Aberforth**_

_**GINNY**_

In January were the winter exams – Ginny had been so excited by the prospect of the Yule Ball that she had forgotten, and now was forcing herself to do some serious revision-work, despite the thick snow crunching over the Hogwarts grounds, pleading, _have snowballs fight in me, make snow angels, please_. "Someone should make exams while it's snowing illegal," Ginny muttered, looking up from her Transfiguration notes,

"Ignore the snow, Ginny, just revise," said Hermione strictly. For a whole week after the Yule Ball, she had been almost as ditzy as Lavender Brown; she had kissed Viktor Krum, and danced all night long with many good-looking Durmstrang _and _Hogwarts boys, including Ron. However, now she was back to her usual bookish self.

"That's easy for _you _to say," Ginny said, though she wasn't sure why it was easier for Hermione, and she focused on how to Transfigure a rock into various different animals. She remembered her Aunt Fleur using that spell in the Triwizard Tournament three years ago, and also remembered thinking, _I could never do that_.

Ginny smiled, and returned to her gaze to the window, where shouts of the rowdy younger students could be heard outside in the gardens. Despite the distance, she thought that she saw a glint of platinum-blonde hair, seven floors below.

Things between Ginny and Draco had been awkward for a while, but now they had settled back into their normal friendship – though Ginny knew that she was take the feel of Draco's lips on hers to the grave. Her fingers floated to her necklace, and wrapped around the smooth chunk of black rock…

"Ginny, are you actually revising?" Hermione said with a sigh, and then yelped. "Hell, Ginny, where'd you go?"

Ginny groaned. _Not again_. She looked down – she had disappeared again. A devious thought crossed her mind, and, as quietly as she could, Ginny climbed out her chair and left the common room, snatching up her hat and scarf as she went.

"Score," said Ginny with a grin as she pulled on her hat, and knotted her scarf around her neck. Ginny passed a floor-length mirror, and, expecting not to see anything, was shocked to see a floating woollen hat and stripy scarf. "Whoa."

Ginny reached up and touched her hat – it was still there. But she wasn't. _Whaaat_?! She felt her scarf, and her fingers brushed the stone around her neck; she came into view, scaring a nearby cat.

"The necklace," Ginny whispered, realization dawning on her. "It's the _necklace _that makes me turn invisible." She stretched up one finger and prodded the black onyx gently, taking in her breath quickly in anticipation… nothing happened. She curled her fingers around the silver edging, and _boom_. Gone.

A grin spread across her face, and she raced, invisible, down the hall, able to sprint as fast as she could without fear of being spotted or given detention. The necklace bounced against her collarbone with every step, sending new life flying into every stride. She swerved past Colin Creevey, leaping over Mrs. Norris, and thundering down the grand stairs.

Bursting outside, Ginny spun, leaving strange marks in the snow that, seemingly, no-one had made. She laughed, dropping down and sitting in a snowdrift. "This is amazing," she murmured, and reached up to touch the glowing pendant. Her trainers appeared in front of her, jeans extending from there, and she knew that she was truly a master of invisibility.

"What the hell is she _doing_?" Jaqi's sneer reached Ginny's ears, but the redhead didn't notice, she was at the stage where she was ready to start dancing. She had the power of invisibility, she had great friends, it was January, it was snowing, and she had kissed Draco – _wait_. Ginny stopped dead. _Why do I care_?

"She's such a freak," said Lavender.

"I _know_. I have no idea how she could get that Bulgarian hottie to fancy her," said Jaqi's right-hand girl, Eva Perrin, "she's so damn weird."

"Did you hear about the Yule Ball?" Jaqi sniped. "_I _heard that she snogged that freak in Slytherin."

"Malfoy? Didn't he used to be really hot?"

"Yeah, _him_. Only now he's a _total _mess, 'cause word says he works for You-Know-Who."

"_No way_."

"Anyway, I thought that she was dating Harry?"

"She is."

"Ohmigod, that's _sooo_ unfair, right? She gets all of the hot guys at the same time? There has to be something good about her."

"Yeah," retorted Ginny, standing up, "there is something good about me. I know when the hell to shut my mouth."

"So, Ginny," Eva sneered, "is it true? Did you kiss Malfoy? Do you actually have feelings for him? Aw, poor Harry Potter is gonna be _so _upset."

"Shut it, Perrin," Ginny snapped. "For your information, I didn't kiss him," it was a blind lie, but none of them knew Leglimency, so it didn't really matter, "and I don't have feelings for him. Even if I did, it wouldn't matter to _poor Harry Potter_ because everyone knows that he's not in love with me anymore!" Eva, Jaqi and Lavender stared at Ginny in a stunned silence. _Damn_, Ginny panicked, _I wasn't supposed to know_.

"'Even if you did'? Weasley, are you hiding something?" sneered Lavender.

"No," said Ginny defensively.

"Of course not, Lavender, don't be stupid," said Jaqi, "who could _possibly _fall in love with that stupid, ignorant, Dark-Lord supporter -"

Before Ginny even acknowledged that her wand was out, a roar of "Furnunculus!" was thrown out, and Jaqi cried out, stumbling backwards as boils began to sprout all across her face. "Back off," Ginny snarled, pointing her wand at the fallen Jaqi.

"You _psycho_!" Jaqi spat, sitting up. "You're a raving lunatic. And trust me, Weasley, Malfoy would never have you – probably for the same reason that Potter doesn't. Who wants a stupid, hideous _blood-traitor_?"

Ginny stared down at the bedraggled black-haired girl in front of her, speechless. Everything that she had worried about for seven years had just been snarled out by the person she hated most in the school. Her witty brain had been drowned out of any comeback – instead, she grabbed the necklace, disappeared from sight, and, undetectable, fled.

_No, no, Ginevra Molly Weasley __**does not **__cry_, she told herself firmly, slamming her back up against a third-floor stone wall breathlessly, and slapped herself. Then, pain ringing through her head, she sank to the floor, holding the pendant around her throat until she came back into view. She raked one hand through her mussed mop of red hair. _It's so damn bright, it sticks out, different, from everyone else. It's brighter than anyone else's in my family… _She ran a finger across the bridge of her nose, where she knew that her ugly freckles lay.

"_All students report to the Great Hall_," Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly echoed through the castle, crackling with sound. "_All students report to the Great Hall immediately_."

Then there was a silence. Ginny wondered what on earth was so urgent. The last time that something like this had happened, it had been because Sirius Black was 'on the loose'. She smiled at the irony that had filled the entire situation, what with Sirius being Harry's godfather.

Scattered groups of students began pouring down the corridor, most of them staring at Ginny and asking if she was okay. "I'm fine," she said, and hauled herself to her feet. Coming down the hall was Harry, Ron and Hermione, so she scurried over and fell into step beside her brother. "What's happening?" she asked.

"I don't know," Harry said, "but it must be something really serious."

"Professor McGonagall came into the common room, looking really upset. We were sitting on the sofas, so she sent me up to get all of the girls, and Harry up to get all of the boys, and then she used the Sonorus charm to amplify her voice to the whole school," Hermione explained. "She refused to tell us what was going on."

"Maybe Professor Trelawney jumped out of the Divination Tower and committed suicide," said Ron hopefully; Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, frowning. They followed the troupe of Gryffindors down the Great Hall, and filed through the doors.

The entire school population was present – every Professor was there, and even the ghosts were all present (including, to everyone's dismay, Peeves the poltergeist). The tables had been removed, as it had been for the Yule Ball Group-Apparation, but this time there was no Apparation circle. Ginny pushed through the crowd to Luna, and nudged her friend.

"Lu, what's happening?" Ginny asked. "Why are we all here?" Luna shrugged soundlessly, and pointed up at the raised dais, where Professor McGonagall was rising to speak. Professor Umbridge looked thoroughly grumpy that she had been robbed the duty of making speeches.

"Students," Professor McGonagall called, clapping her hands once to gather attention, "we have a very serious situation. I do not want to frighten any of you, but it must be said. He Who Must Not Be Named is targeting Hogwarts and he is drawing closer. Albus Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, tends a pub in Hogsmeade – he has been found dead, marked with only the Killing Curse, and the Dark Mark above his house."

There fell a terrified hush, and Ginny felt as though she might be sick everywhere as she remembered her meeting with Professor McGonagall: "_Ms. Weasley, He Who Must Not Be Named intends to kill you_."

"He Who Must Not Be Named is in Hogsmeade," continued Professor McGonagall, "and, we fear, drawing closer. We have set up jinxes so that He cannot come within one thousand yards of the Hogwarts grounds, but jinxes are only jinxes. They cannot hold forever – and with a Dark Wizard of such power… I do not like to think how long the jinx can last."

Ginny began to tremble; she couldn't help herself. Scared spasms shook her body, and she clung to Luna for physical support. "He's coming to kill me," she whispered.

Luna looked at Ginny, and, for some reason, didn't seem the slightest bit insane. "He won't," she said, after a long pause, and then returned her focus to Professor McGonagall.

"There will be full lock-downs on the school building," said Professor McGonagall. "No-one will leave, and no-one will enter, the Hogwarts grounds. All Hogsmeade trips are postponed until further notice. If you see anyone doing anything of suspicious activity, tell a teacher immediately." She stared desperately around at them all, looking frighteningly like a human being, and not a strict teacher who loved distributing detentions. "And if you, for any reason, should not want to report something to us, then bear this in mind… lives are at stake here."

_Yeah. My life_, Ginny thought darkly. Then, another thought: _what if Lord Voldemort __**didn't **__kill Aberforth Dumbledore? What if – what if it was another Death Eater nearby? Such as, I don't know, say, maybe, __**DRACO MALFOY**_ Ginny paled. _Great. I kissed a Death Eater. Fantastic._

"You kissed a Death Eater?" Luna asked interestedly.

Ginny stared at her disbelievingly. "How do you know?" she demanded. "Did you read my thoughts or something?"

Luna raised one thin, arched eyebrow. "If I just told you your thoughts back to you, then you need to stop saying your thoughts out loud," she said. "Why did you kiss a Death Eater?"

Ginny blushed. "I didn't," she lied. "It was… it was a joke." Luna's eyes were piercing through her lie, and Ginny felt herself growing steadily more and more embarrassed. She tried to imagine what she would say if she confessed.

_I had to? _That would sound like he held her at wandpoint.

_There was mistletoe_? Why would they be alone together?

_If I didn't, someone would die_? That would be mean and prejudiced against Death Eaters – they weren't all bad, after all (Ginny refused to entertain thoughts of Draco).

_I __**wanted**__ to_? Somehow, Ginny didn't think that this idea would go down particularly well, and so she simply avoided saying anything more.

**A/N:** Sorry, this chapter wasn't very interesting. My bad. It ran out steam half way through. Sorry. Please review.


	23. Imo' Accusations

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. This is early January… Draco and Ginny fight again, and Draco confesses…

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Twenty-Two: Imo Accusations**_

_**DRACO**_

The snow began to melt away, signalling the start of spring. Everyone seemed to be looking forwards to the warmth of a new season – everyone, that is, except Draco. Each passing day symbolised more time flying past without the Stone; another day for the Dark Lord to grow angry at him. He knew that Lord Voldemort did not deal kindly with failure.

Also, the exams were drawing closer. Draco's mock-NEWTs. He was worried sick about not passing, and was studying so hard that he had almost forgotten what the sky looked like. Any free time he had was now all spent with his eyes to parchment. He was actually starting to regret returning to Hogwarts. _No, _Draco thought, _I don't mean that. Think of what's happened. The Yule Ball, Hallowe'en…_

Then another little voice piped up, _Draco, Draco, you only liked those events because Ginny was there_.

_Shut it,_ Draco told the voice, _I'm trying to revise_. The voice obediently fell quiet, even though he was not revising. He was thinking about Aberforth Dumbledore. Draco had only ever met Aberforth once, and he had thought that Dumbledore's little brother was a very nice old man. And now he was dead. Draco knew that it was Goyle, his ex-companion's father, who had killed him, and wondered why Goyle was now so indifferent to Draco when he and Crabbe were almost in the same position.

He sighed, and returned his attention to his parchment. _The Protean Charm is an advanced charm used to transform one thing to match another. This can be used to send notes to other people, as you can Protean a piece of parchment to mimic another, you could write upon the paper, and that message would appear on the other piece of paper._ Draco frowned, and then rolled up his sleeve.

The fat green snake, twining through the decaying skull, had runes upon its scaly back. Draco had never quite understood how to translate the runes into Lord Voldemort's meeting place and time, but most meetings were at six o'clock, and Draco simply stepped into a Floo network, pointing his wand to the Dark Mark – that usually got him to the right place.

_I wonder… _Draco raised his wand, pointing it at the snake. True test of a Protean charm – "Finite incantateum proteus," Draco murmured. There was a second or two when nothing happened, and then his arm exploded into fiery pain.

_Who are you to try and remove me_, the snake hissed angrily, rocking its scaly, triangular head from side to side. _The Dark Lord himself? I'd laugh at that, shrimp._

Draco winced; each movement of the snake was being etched into his skin, making the Dark Mark into a slightly blurry mess. "Don't – you'll mess up the Mark," Draco pleaded.

_That is why I exist,_ the snake snapped, _if any Death Eater should attempt to remove His Mark, I am cursed to come to life and partially destroy the Mark. Then He shall know who has tried to leave His alliance._

Despair welled up in Draco's heart. The Dark Lord would be furious. "No, please, don't -" he whispered, but the snake only cackled, and retreated into the mess that had once been a skull. Draco stared uselessly at it, and then made up his mind. _The Dark Mark lies only on your skin, so… _Draco chewed his lower lip nervously, and pointed his wand nervously at his forearm. "…this had better work…_sectumsempra._"

Draco didn't actually know what the spell did, but last year Potter had used it on him and the curse had cut him open. So, _hopefully_… purple light flared from the tip of his wand, and then PAIN, roaring through Draco's arm, struggling not to scream… Through the agony, Draco managed to growl out, "That went well."

Draco blearily opened his eyes. "That," he groaned, "was the stupidest thing I've ever done." Then he saw a striking heart-shaped face, with mud dripping from a scarlet ponytail. "Ginny…?" he croaked, reaching out for her groggily.

Relief crossed her hazel eyes, and then was immediately replaced by anger. "You idiot!" she cried, "what is your problem? You just feel like locking your door and then slashing your arm open, do you?"

Draco moaned and sank into his pillow. _I can not be dealing with this right now_… "I'm sorry, okay?" he grumbled, and, seeing the accusing look on her pale face, added, "and I know what you think but I was not inflicting self-harm because I'm … I dunno… imo, or whatever it is that Muggles call it."

Ginny folded her arms. "It's called emo, not imo," she corrected, "and if you're trying to pretend that you didn't just try and kill yourself, then listen to this – I just come up the stairs from Quidditch practice and find Madam Pomfrey, Professor Snape, and half a dozen house-elves carrying my moaning, barely conscious, blood-soaked best friend to the Hospital Wing at high speed. I saw your arm, Malfoy. I know what accidents look like and I know what Dark Magic is. And _that_," she pointed at Draco's arm, "was no accident."

Draco wasn't listening, though; he had zoned out after two words. "I'm… I'm your – best friend?" he whispered, astonished.

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it, reddening. "I just meant that – well – yeah, I guess," she said, totally confident, apart from the tell-tale spots of colour high on her cheeks.

Draco's heart swelled up two sizes, and he sat up, shuffling backwards until his back met the headboard. "Er," he said, feeling that he should say something important, "I've never really had a best friend… so – er – yeah. Thanks."

Ginny nodded; then, embarrassedly scratching the back of her head, she asked, "Sorry if its personal or something… but – well, why did you try and kill yourself? You really scared me."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I didn't try and kill myself," he protested. "I just…" _Just what? Tried to get rid of the Dark Lord's Mark by slicing off every layer of skin that it was burned onto? That'll boost her faith in me, I'm sure._

"Fine," said Ginny shortly. "I'm sorry." She didn't sound it. Nonetheless, Draco forced a smile onto his face. She flashed a smile back, and suddenly Draco was seeing the Yule Ball all over again: Ginny drawing closer, eyes fluttering closed, green dress flaring around her knees, her lips on his…

"Draco?"

He jolted back into reality. "Sorry," he said, red rushing into his face faster than London traffic. "Did you say something? I went into a different world."

"I can tell," said Ginny quietly, and Draco noticed how withdrawn she was. She was staring silently at the wall on the other side of the Hospital Wing, fiddling with her Quidditch robes. "Gryffindor has a Hufflepuff match next week," she said randomly. "Madam Pomfrey says that my elbow is well enough for me to play. I hope that nothing drastic happens this time."

Draco agreed, and Ginny started to say more, but he interrupted, "Ginny, what's wrong?"

Ginny stared at him. "Do you really want to know?" she asked, and Draco was shocked to hear that she sounded close to tears. "My problem is that I thought you were my friend. My _best _friend, even. But you're obviously not, because friends care about each other. I care about you more than I care about Harry and Hermione and all the rest of them. I liked to think that you cared about me, too, but that's clearly a load of crap – and do you know why? Because when you were upset, instead of coming to let me help, you went and did -" Ginny's voice cracked horribly, before returning, stronger than anything, "and did _this_! I would be devastated if you died, Draco, because I care about you. _You, _however, don't give a _bloody damn _about me, and this is how you show it!"

Draco stared at her as she stood, trembling with rage. Then, she said, her tone icy enough to chill a penguin, "there's a Hufflepuff-Gryffindor Quidditch match next week. Don't bother coming; and if you do, don't you _dare _support Gryffindor." She pressed her lips together into a thin, hard line, and then said haughtily, "bye," before turning on her heel and storming from the ward, leaving only a trail of muddy footprints and a stunned Slytherin.

There was indeed a Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match, and Draco honestly couldn't see how the players could fit in revision _and _training. They seemed to have managed, though they did all seem very tired. Weasley nearly slid off of his broom three times; Potter had to blink repeatedly to stay awake; Ginny was wide awake, but she looked like a panda, with bags under her eyes.

As the Quaffle flew into the air, Draco opened his mouth to cheer the standard 'go, go, Gryff-in-dooor' chant, but Ginny looked over the Slytherin crowd piercingly, like a hawk surveying her prey, and Draco remember that he wasn't supposed to support her team. He quietened, and watched the game in silence.

_She is so damn __**stubborn**__. She always causes big fights between us because of her pride. The last time it was because she was 'scared for me', and this time it's because she 'cares for me'. _Draco scowled. _She is one weird girl._

The game began, and Draco felt as though Ginny was deliberately staying on the other side of the pitch, to avoid him. He glared at her, glared at the crowd, and then stalked away from the stands. The Slytherin common room was strangely empty – everyone had gone to the Quidditch match. Draco sank into the armchair nearest to the fireplace, and rested his head in his hands. "What am I supposed to do?" he muttered, raking a hand roughly through his hair.

He stared up at the flames, flickering in the hearth. "I can't pretend that I'm here to finish my education," he whispered to himself. "I like thinking that I'm here to study… but I'm not."

In the flames, leaping across the stone fire-place, he saw a sad heart-shaped face, looking desperately at him. "Please, Draco," Ginny murmured, and then she was gone. Draco's face crumpled as he watched where she had once been, and buried his face in his hands.

"I can't do this," Draco said. He knew that he was talking to himself, and that the paintings on the wall were sneering to each other, _look, the loner is going insane_. He felt a sob build up his chest, but he flattened it, and looked up at the fire again. "I can't kill her…" Words formed in his throat; he had been fighting them down for months, trying to replace them with thoughts of friendship and the Dark Lord's words, but now he forced himself to say them, to admit to himself something that he'd never thought his heart was even capable of: "I love her."

**A/N:** Sooo Draco and Ginny getting closer… and Ginny's just upset because she's falling in love with Draco and she thought that he tried to kill himself… yeah. It was a little random but whatever. XD Please review.


	24. Scream, Girl, No One Will Hear You

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Mid-January. Ginny is nervous about saying sorry, but, suddenly, apologizing is the least of her problems. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Twenty-Four: Scream, Girl, No-one Will Hear You**_

_**GINNY**_

_Sorry. I didn't mean to_

Ginny crossed it out, and tried again. _I'm sorry for getting – _No. She anxiously chewed the nib of her quill. She felt terrible about being so angry at Draco. If he didn't try to kill himself, then she was being really unreasonable. And if he did, the only friend he had in the world avoiding him wouldn't help matters. _I'm sorry that I was so horrible to you. _No. The only sound in the common room was the snuffle of Neville's heavy breathing, and the scratching of Ginny's quill, only broken by an occasional sigh of exasperation at her own stupidity. _Are you okay_?

The entire page was covered with crossed-out _I'm sorry_s; it was now really obvious how much she was beating herself up about it. "Damn it," Ginny muttered, and she scrunched up her piece of paper, and threw it blindly over her shoulder, trying to get it into the fire, but not really knowing where it was going.

"_Hey_ – Ginny, what are you doing?" Neville asked from across the room. "I keep getting hit by random pieces of paper."

Ginny sighed again. "Neville, give me an idea for how to start an apology letter," she said, reaching for another piece of parchment and re-dipping her quill in her ink-pot.

"Er… how about 'sorry'?" Neville suggested.

"Tried that. Didn't work."

"Oh." Neville stood, snapped his Herbology revision book shut and walked across to Ginny. "Why are you writing an apology letter, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know, Neville – maybe to _apologize _to someone?" she said sarcastically, casting him a withering look. "Genius, Nev, genius."

"Sorry," Neville mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"_See_?" Ginny cried, frustratedly scrunching her hands into fists. "Even you're better at it than me!" She groaned, and smacked her head forewards onto the desk, causing her ink-pot to tip over. "Great," she moaned, and sat up.

"_Scourgify_," said Neville, pointing his wand at the blue mess spreading across Ginny's scrap of parchment. "Do you want to borrow my ink-pot?"

"Thanks," said Ginny, crumpling up the piece of parchment and chucking in the general direction of the Gryffindor hearth as Neville Summoned his ink-pot and set it on the desk. "So, any ideas?"

Neville shrugged. "I always mess up things with people. I just usually say sorry and explain what I did wrong," he said.

Ginny looked up at him in a new light. "Neville… thanks," she said softly, and gave a small smile. "I'm always sort of mean to you, but… you're probably the nicest person in Gryffindor."

Neville blushed. "You don't mean that," he said lamely, "I'm not nicer than Harry."

Ginny's expression hardened. "You're _definitely _nicer than Harry," she said with a humourless laugh. "Anyway, just… thanks." Neville nodded with a smile, and returned to his book, leaving Ginny to turn and draw another piece of parchment.

_Draco,_

_Sorry. I didn't mean what I said – well, I did, but it's not true. I want to say that I wish I could wind back the past few weeks and just… live it again. As your friend. As your __**best **__friend. That's if you'll accept this, that is. And if you don't, I can hardly blame you… Lavender Brown has new competition for the Queen Bitch of Hogwarts award (guess who the key candidate is?), let's just say. Basically, I'm sorry._

_Sincerely_

_From_

_Love, Ginny x_

Ginny looked down at the letter. It seemed repentant enough, though the x-ed out 'sincerely' and 'from' did look a bit stupid. She supposed that she could try 'Scourgify', but she didn't want to risk destroying the whole letter. She shrugged, folded it carefully, and handed it to Pigwideon.

The small owl was, technically, Ron's, but since Ginny had named it, he wouldn't mind her using it… right? "Take this to Draco Malfoy," said Ginny quietly, so that Neville wouldn't hear. Pigwidgeon hooted excited, and flung himself towards the half-open window.

Ginny followed the tiny owl's flight until he was out of sight, and then stood to close the window. Flowers were pushing their way through the semi-frozen ground; it was a beautiful sight. She fished her time-table out of her pocket and scanned through it for her next lesson. Seeing Professor Binns' name, she scooped up her bag, and, with a "bye Neville", proceeded to the History of Magic classroom.

Pushing open the door, and taking her usual seat, Ginny hoped that this lesson would be more interesting or she'd have to charm her eyes so that she couldn't close them again.

"Hello, students… please, Mr. Cadligh, close the blinds…" droned Professor Binns; Colin Creevey stood and closed them (everyone was, by now, used to their new names. Ginny was Ms. Webster), "we will be watching a slide-show of the Goblin War newspaper headlines… tell me if anyone can see a problem with biased or sensitive headlines…"

Ginny rolled her eyes, and pulled out her notebook and a quill. _Biased opinions on Goblin Wars in the 14__th__ Century Newspapers_, she scrawled, and looked up expectantly. Click… click… click… pictures crawling past, Ginny scratching down each headline and a personal opinion – _will this lesson __**never**__ end_? – and then a heavy _thump_ on the window.

Ginny glanced over at it, and saw a dazed-looking Pidwidgeon staggering across the windowsill outside. _God, we're on the fourth floor; he's going to fall __**off**_, she suddenly panicked. _What will Ron think if I borrowed his owl without permisson and __**killed **__it?!_ She looked nervously at Professor Binns, before sliding out of her chair, crouching, and scuttling across to the window.

"Ohmigod, _look _at it!"

"He's _so _cute!"

"Is that _Ginny's _owl?"

Ginny ignored the whispers around her that were steadily growing in volume, and unclipped the window. She snatched Pigwidgeon up and raced back to her desk, hiding the small owl inside her cloak. Back in her chair, Ginny hissed to the owl, "Be quiet," and then stuffed him in her bag. As he hooted quietly but indignantly, she saw a coil of parchment wrapped around his leg.

_Draco __**replied**_? She had just been expecting for Pidwidgeon to deliver the message and return, and then for Draco to explain himself the next time he saw her. Heart pounding with the anticipation of what the response might say, she bent, dug her hand into her bag and pulled out a thin strip of yellowed parchment. On it were the words, in tiny, minute writing, _Ten o'clock. Outskirts of the Forest, behind Hagrid's Hut. By the old oak with the face._

Ginny didn't know what she wanted to do; blush, pale, sigh, groan, complain, jump for joy… they all seemed like the wrong thing to do. Instead, she coiled the parchment around her finger, and then slipped it into her pocket.

**9:45pm**

Ginny lay silently on top of her bed-sheets, listening for anything except the snores of the other sixth-year Gryffindor girls. No-one seemed to be awake, so Ginny sat up and, cross-legged on her blankets, checked that she had everything she needed. Her wand, the piece of paper, her dark clothes… and then, around her neck, the black pendant. All present and correct.

She stuffed her pillow under her blanket to make it look as though she was there, and then climbed out through the thick red bed-curtains, drawing them tightly behind her. She touched the necklace lightly, and then tiptoed from the Gryffindor tower. Ginny had never really been outside after hours before, except for sometimes sneaking out with Harry for a kiss in the dark tower, and she found the moonlight pouring through the tall windows and spilling across the stone floor slightly creepy.

Ginny stole down the Entrance Halls stairs and, trying not to let the grand doors creak, left the building. A tiny voice nagged in her head, _Ginny, you shouldn't be doing this! Lord Voldemort is nearby, and you're going to meet a __**Death Eater**__, with __**no-one else**__, in the __**dark**__. Not really very sensible._ "Shut up," Ginny told the voice, "you're as bad as Ron."

The grounds were even worse. The cold air cut through Ginny, making her shiver, and she pulled her black jacket tighter around her. Every rustle of grass seemed like an animal following her, and she began getting jumpy and scared. The Forbidden Forest was drawing closer, and she had to admit that the thought of waiting there for Draco was not high on her to-do list. A light was still on in Hagrid's little wooden cabin, and Ginny had to run past it quickly so that she wasn't seen through a window; Hagrid didn't see a fleeing redhead, but Fang did, and he barked madly. However, when Hagrid reached the window, nothing was there…

There was the old oak, and Ginny could see the smiling face carved into the trunk. She stood at the there; it was cold, damp, and nearly pitch-black. "Lumos," she whispered. The tip of her wand glowed for a moment, and then lit up in an orb of bright light. The sudden contrast of brightness hurt Ginny's eyes for a second, but she got used to it, and peered around the Forest. Silence… a minute passed… another… time was dragging very slowly, but even she knew that she had been there for a long time. She pulled out a small clock from her black combat-trousers pocket and squinted at the numerals around the edge. 10:10pm. Draco was late.

"La-la-la," Ginny sang softly, for want of something to keep her mind off of the penetrating dark all around her. Half-way through the chorus of the Weird Sisters' new hit 'Supernatural', a heavy rustling of trees and a crunching of leaves reached Ginny's ears. She stopped dead, and pointed her wand around.

"Draco?" she called nervously, feeling her heart begin to beat faster. There was a terrible silence, with only the occasional crackle of someone (_or something_, a frightened voice said in the back of her mind) moving. "Draco – is that you?" Nothing replied, but the thing – _person_! Ginny corrected herself hastily, _it's not a thing! It's Draco, trying to scare me! But hell, it's working_ – paused, as if it had finally noticed that someone else was nearby.

"Draco – Draco, this isn't f-funny," Ginny said, fighting to keep her voice steady. No-one replied. The crunching came louder and louder; she swung her wand around to the source of the steps, and saw the vague outline of something. There was no doubting it anymore – it was a some_thing_.

Ginny gave a frightened squeak. "Nox," she whispered, and the light on the end of her wand went out. She stood, totally still, her wand hanging uselessly in her hand, hoping that perhaps it hadn't seen her. The shape was moving closer. It was large, and Ginny could see the little light there was glinting off grey, shaggy fur.

It was looking as though it might walk away when it suddenly turned and stared right into Ginny's face with piercing red eyes like glowing crimson jewels. _Okay, it's seen me_. She couldn't breathe, her heart had been going very fast, but now she _had _no heart, it had just stopped beating altogether. She took a slow step back – mistake. Her trainers crunched on a twig, and the creature's lips curled back, baring large, flat teeth for crushing, and two long, curved fangs, for … _tearing_, Ginny finished silently, and she found that she was shaking uncontrollably.

"Draco," she said fearfully, hoping that he was close enough to rescue her like the chivalrous knight he often pretended to be when opening doors for her. This one word caused a snarl from the beast, and, without thinking, without realizing that the creature would be much, _much_ faster than her, she turned and ran.

Sprinting full-out, as fast as she could, the necklace pounding against her neck, hair spinning out behind her with every, her heart starting again and trying to break free from her ribcage, madly beating like a drum, almost in sync with her flurried footsteps. Each stride took up land, leaping over logs and rocks, weaving through bushes. A small part of her brain was vaguely aware that she was getting deeper into the Forbidden Forest and that she had no idea where she going, but a larger part of her brain was screaming, _**RUN!!**_

Which part would you listen to?

Ginny had never run as fast in her life, and she was marvelling at how she hadn't tripped on a root yet. _Yet_, said the annoying voice in her head, _give it time. You'll fall and then it'll __**eat **__you._ "Shut up!" she shrieked at the voice, moving faster. However, it was right, because a moment later, she continued forwards, but her foot did not. The ground was flying up towards her, and she landed, hard, on the cold dirt.

She thought of screaming for Hagrid, or Draco, or _anyone_, but she had gone to watch some Muggle movies with Hermione once, and a catch-phrase from a film about some Muggles going to the moon came back to her: _No-one will hear you scream_. She was far away from Hogwarts, far away from Hagrid's Hut, and far away from where Draco had probably stood her up. She could yell all she wanted; no-one would come.

Soundlessly, Ginny hauled her foot from the hole it had dropped into, and, hearing a furious pounding of paws as something raced after her, crawled towards a tree trunk and pressed herself flat against it, hoping that the beast would run right past her.

It did, but then thundered to a halt, and Ginny could hear it sniffing, taking in huge amounts of air as it searched for her scent. Her breath coming very fast, she shuffled around the edge of the tree, and began crawling furiously away. There was a dip in the land, with fallen trees and rocks nearby… she slid down into the dip and wriggled under a rock, trying to get as far away from the outside Forest.

There was total silence apart the crunching of footsteps, and then it dawned on Ginny that she was very far into the Forbidden Forest. Even if she _could _get away, she would never be able to run back to Hogwarts before the beast got her. Panic flooded her, and her heart was beating faster than ever. Harry was always a hero when he didn't need to be – but when he _was _needed, where was he? Fast asleep in bed, that's where.

"Oh God," Ginny whispered, and, for the second time in a month, felt as though she might cry. The snuffling and rustling of footsteps was growing closer, and Ginny saw a large, hairy paw set foot outside of her hiding place. She began shuffling backwards desperately, trying to get out of the other side, but she was too big to squeeze through. Lying flat on her stomach, she tried to army-crawl, but it was still… too… _tight_…

A pair of smouldering scarlet eyes stared at Ginny, and a long, scarred nose was pushed down the dip. She screamed as it snarled, inches away from her face, and she began clawing madly at the dirt to get away – pain was ripping through her arm, through her waist, through her legs, and then suddenly she was out, into past the rock, and she squirmed out of the dip. Zigzagging through the path of fallen trees and rocks, tearing through a thorny bush; blood dripped down her fingers but she didn't care, she was running for her life again, she didn't know where, she didn't know how she expected to survive: and then a thought came to her. She stopped, glanced over her shoulder to see how much time she had before the creature caught up, pointed her wand to her throat, whispered "Sonorus", sucked a deep breath… "_**DRACO**_!"

**A/N:** DUN DUN DUN!! My first cliff-hanger. Please review and tell me what you think!! XD


	25. Saving the Day and Other Extreme Sports

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Mid-January. Draco is late, and he has to swing into rescue-mode! Sort of melodramatic and cheesy, but there ya go.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Twenty-Five: Saving the Day and Other Extreme Sports**_

_**DRACO**_

_A pair of smouldering scarlet eyes stared at Ginny, and a long, scarred nose was pushed down the dip. She screamed as it snarled, inches away from her face, and she began clawing madly at the dirt to get away – pain was ripping through her arm, through her legs, and then suddenly she was out, into past the rock, and she squirmed out of the dip._

_She stopped, glanced over her shoulder to see how much time she had before the creature caught up, pointed her wand to her throat, whispered "Sonorus", sucked a deep breath… "_**DRACO**_!"_

…

"Damn it," Draco muttered, crossing the gloomy grounds. He had set his wand to poke him at 9:50pm until he woke up, but, unfortunately, the wand had been confused by the bed-curtains. After ten minutes of his wand poking the curtains, Draco finally woke up – because his curtains collapsed on top of him. He was _hell _late, and Ginny would not be pleased.

"Lumos," said Draco, lighting up his wand. Hagrid's Hut was totally dark, and the half-giant always went to be late. Draco was behind schedule for his own meeting. _Great_. He broke into a jog, as he neared the forest.

It was terribly dark, and Draco hoped that he could actually _find _the meeting place to start with. _There_! The old oak with the face. He stood in front of the majestic tree, and waited impatiently. He was late, so why wasn't Ginny already here? "Ginny?" he called, shining the light at the end of his wand around.

No-one answered. And then his wand-light fell upon the scattered footprints from a light, feminine trainer – and, more importantly, the huge, deep, paw-print that he had been trained to recognize only a few weeks earlier in Care of Magical Creatures class. A large European beast with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a dragon's powerful tail; only ever been killed once by any human being; highly destructive and blood-thirsty; _chimaera_.

"Oh God," Draco said in horror, his face draining of what little colour it usually maintained, "oh, God, no." He moved his wand to follow the feminine footsteps… they turned and moved away, in longer paces – running – and the chimaera pawprints behind it – chasing – "_Ginny_!" Draco yelled, heading off after her, keeping his wand low to follow the footsteps.

"Hell – er – _abraxus_… god, what was it -" Draco muttered desperately, "-_abraxus merranite_!" A faintly glowing white line fell from his wand and pursued the Slytherin's chase (hopefully, it would prevent Draco from getting lost). He cast his wand around, searching desperately for his enemy, his friend, and his first love.

"Ginny!" he bellowed, squinting through the dense gloom. "Ginny, are you there, can you hear-"

"_**DRACO**_!"

Draco's blood ran cold as the highest, most anguished scream he had ever heard tore through the Forest, sending a thousand startled birds shooting away from the noise. _Follow the birds to the start of their flight._ He broke into a sprint, ripping through the Forest, running under the fleeing owls and crows. "Ginny!" he yelled, and as he waited for her response, still running, images were flashing through his mind:

_Ginny, lying on the ground, blood dripping down her face, not breathing –_

_Ginny, tattered and gasping his name with her dying breath –_

_Ginny, being ripped apart –_

"_Ginny_!" Draco shouted. He ran in front of a tree and flashed his wand-light around, frantically searching for the fiery hair that he knew so well. No-one there. He raced forwards again; the flow of birds was slowing down, and soon he would have no lead as to where the hell she was. A terrible, deafening roar, like a thousand steam-trains bawling past, came to Draco's ears, and he was ready to start screaming, _don't eat her, don't eat her_, when a small, dishevelled figure burst out of the undergrowth.

Draco didn't have time to gasp or call her name, he just instinctively reached out and she staggered into him, stumbling in his arms and then falling against his chest. She was coated in mud and leaves, as well as – he felt a growl of anger rise in his throat – her own blood.

"Draco," she cried, her voice raw and wheezy from shouting, and he began to run with her, one arm around her fragile, shaking shoulders to steady her. A snarl pierced the Forbidden Forest's hush, and Draco did not need to turn to see where the chimaera was.

"Go," he told her, spinning and shoving her, quite violently, back in the direction of Hogwarts castle. "Follow the white line." Ginny stared, horror-struck at him. Draco's white face reddened with anger, "_GO_, you idiot! Do you want to die?!" he shouted.

Behind fear and despair, hurt appeared in Ginny's hazel eyes, and, for some totally peculiar reason, Draco found a sudden urge to pull her back to him and kiss her. Shocked by his own thoughts, he turned back and drew his wand. "Abraxus chimaera!" he muttered, sketching a long line that the chimaera could not cross.

It lunged forwards, lion claws flashing, dragon tail swinging, and sharp, deadly fangs bared and dripping Ginny's blood. The chimaera slammed into the boundary, and snarled, howling furiously, and then it was tearing the line apart, each razor-sharp claw slicing through layer after layer of fat magical border line. Draco knew that his time was running short: "Stupefy!" he yelled, brandishing his wand madly, and then, the creature rearing back with a wail of agony, he took off after Ginny, dissolving the line after him.

Draco was racing so fast that he almost ran past Ginny. He wheeled around and returned to where the bedraggled, blood-stained girl was gasping, clutching her side; Draco saw blood seeping between her slim fingers. She was struggling to keep her eyes open, slumped onto a tree.

"Come on, Ginny, come on," he said, taking hold of her and helping her stumble out of the Forest. Draco pushed her forwards, "head to the Hospital Wing," he commanded, and then slammed his palms heavily on Hagrid's door, alerting him to the chimaera. Draco ran towards the Hospital Wing, and, halfway to the Entrance Hall doors, saw Ginny sitting in a heap on the damp grass. "Oh, for God's sake," Draco muttered, and, with some difficulty (having never carried a copiously-bleeding sixteen-year-old girl before), scooped her up and stumbled towards the doors.

"Get off me," Ginny snapped, feebly hitting his shoulder and growling at him in a way uncannily like the chimaera, so that Draco actually glanced over his shoulder to check that it wasn't still pursuing them. "I'm _fine_, Drakonus Ophius.. Ophius… merhhhph," she moaned, and buried her face into the material of his black hoodie.

Draco felt extremely protective as he hurried up the grand stairs, vaguely aware that he was dripping mud and blood all throughout the castle, and then burst through the Hospital Wing doors. It was silent and dark – Madam Pomfrey had already gone to bed. _Good,_ thought Draco,_ we don't want her asking questions as to why we're turning up at half past ten, muddy and blood-soaked._

Draco slid Ginny onto a bed and began to check her injuries. _Mud, leaves and blood stains… _"Scourgify." _Minor cuts on her face… _"Episkey." _Nasty cuts on her legs… _"That'll need a potion…"_Quite nasty cuts on her arm_… "Delemtrionus." _Her side… _Draco gagged, and hastily left to get some potion ingredients. He had broken into the Hospital Wing store before, when he had been cursed by the Dark Lord, and he didn't want Madam Pomfrey nosing in about why he had Dark Magic inflicted on his stomach.

Bezoar… diluted phoenix tears…crushed occamy shells… pickled murtlap essence… mooncalf liver… powdered unicorn horn… dragon claw… sliced ashwinder scale… three pints of water… turn cauldron heat to two hundred… "_flagrate"_… and mix well… Draco let the cauldron simmer while he took a flask of water and gingerly cleaned her side. The blood crackled and fell off, and then he carefully doused some of the potion onto the wound, before mumbling, "_ferula_," and wrapping a bandage around her slender waist.

As he knotted the soft, gauze fabric beside her hips, he felt his face reddening, and Ginny murmured softly, "it's only a damn hip, for heaven's sake." Draco's head snapped up, and colour rushed in and out of his face as a million emotions swirled through his mind.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, mixing up some of the potion into a goblet. "Here, have this." Ginny sniffed disdainfully at it, and screwed up her nose; her reluctance was apparent. Draco sighed, "just take it, Gin, it's a healing potion."

Ginny weakly accepted the goblet and gulped it down, scrunching up her face at the foul taste. "How do you know all of this?" she asked, her voice low and croaky.

Draco blushed. "Er," he lied, "I pay attention in Potions." Ginny gave him a raised-eyebrow-_oh-yes-is-that-so_ look. Draco blushed further. "Well… I sort of… I sort of want to be a Healer when I'm older," he muttered, ducking his head to hide his shame. Being a Healer was a girl's dream, not a guy's – kind of like a boy wanting to be a unicorn tamer. A guy's dream was to be an Auror or the Ministry of Magic… not a Healer.

Ginny didn't say anything, and when Draco looked up, she was watching him intently, with a look of pure respect shining in her hazel eyes, moonlight glinting on the Stone of Montol and reflecting on her pale face. "You'd be really good," she said softly, "and I think it's really good that you're choosing to do your own thing, instead of copying everyone else's dreams."

Draco nodded, still feeling ridiculously embarrassed.

"Are you going to try out at St. Mungoes when you leave Hogwarts?" Ginny inquired, and Draco's heart plunged. _No, _he answered in his head_, because I'm a Death Eater, all that my future holds for me is murder and Azkaban_.

But he didn't say this; instead Draco said, "Maybe," and left it at that. There was a silence, and, as a pathetic attempt to break the quiet, he asked, "What do you want to be when you're older?"

Ginny turned redder than her hair, and tried to hide behind it instinctively, as she always did, but her hair was in a ponytail, and she merely looked abashed and uncomfortable. "Nothing," she said hurriedly, "I don't know yet." Draco didn't push it further, but he was wounded that he had told Ginny his secret and she wouldn't tell him hers. Then, she said quietly, "I can't tell you. But I might… _show _you. One day."

_What needs me to see it_? Draco wondered. _Professional Quidditch player? Gardener? __**Unicorn-tamer**_

A terrible thought hit Draco, and he realized what had basically happened to Ginny. "Er," he started, "you know… Ginny, you do know, don't you, that… I didn't … I dunno… set you up, or anything like that," he finished lamely. Ginny had basically gone, trustfully, to meet him, and had been attacked by a blood-thirsty monster.

Ginny gazed at him levelly. "I know," she said simply, her eyes not leaving his face, and Draco felt his face burning again under the watch of those glittering brown-green eyes. Then, suddenly, her eyelids drooped, and she stifled a yawn, sinking back onto her pillow.

"Ginny," Draco repeated, knowing in his heart that he desperately wanted to say something meaningful before she fell asleep, "you know, don't you, that I lov -"

"I know," Ginny murmured again, and before Draco could demand what she knew, she was asleep. _Does she know that I love her? _Draco wasn't sure if this idea made him happy or not.

**A/N:** Lol. Unicorn-tamer. Heh. Anywho, please review. HEY! THAT RHYMED! –happydance-


	26. Mysterious Stranger

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Late-January. Ginny is forced into blackmail, and she tells someone a secret. I'm sorry it took me so long to update!! I'M SO ASHAMED!! It took me twenty-six chapters to notice a grammar error in my disclaimer!! ARGH!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Twenty-Six: Mysterious Stranger**_

_**GINNY**_

"Yes, Minerva, I understand that she is unwell and should be treated – the fact remains that she was not here last evening, and in the morning she was suddenly _here_, wounded, but already being Healed to a standard nearly equal to myself!"

Ginny woke to Madam Pomfrey's fierce whispering, and, though she was wide awake, pretended to be asleep so as to hear this conversation. She rolled over so that they wouldn't be able to see that her eyes were open.

Professor McGonagall's voice spoke next. "Wake her, and question her as to what happened," she demanded. There was a shuffling of feet, and then someone roughly shook Ginny's shoulder. She made a big show out of squinting, stretching and yawning widely, and staring, looking confused, at Madam Pomfrey.

"What happened?" Professor McGonagall asked, quite fiercely. "Why are you here?"

Ginny blinked. "I – I don't know," she lied, "I'm really sorry. I left the Gryffindor tower and I was wandering around after hours. I learnt my lesson, though, when something jumped out at me. I think it was a suit of armour, thinking that I was an intruder. Anyway, I only remember falling... and then being carried here and treated by a mysterious person."

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were staring at her, and then exchanged a dubious look.

"Er – I think I passed out," Ginny added lamely, "and I'm sorry that I sneaked out of the Gryffindor tower after hours. I won't do it again."

Professor McGonagall heaved a sigh. "Well, we really need to thank that mysterious man. Those were very serious injuries, Ms. Weasley; had he not found you… you probably would not be here now," she said solemnly. She surveyed Ginny through her glasses, and then said, "Madam Pomfrey has given you leave. You are fit to go. And if you should see your," McGonagall coughed, "_knight in shining armour_," McGonagall pushed her glasses further up her long nose, "then do not fail to tell me what house he was in, so that I may award him points."

Ginny nodded eagerly, and swung out of the bed. A spasm of pain shot through her side, but she bit back a yelp, and hobbled clumsily towards the door. Instantly, she was bombarded by a crowd of people all shouting and jostling her.

"Ginny, Ginny -" Luna said urgently, trying to push through the mass of people, flailing for her friend's attention.

"Ohmi_god_, Ginny, I was so scared! We just got woken up by Professor McGonagall because you'd been found in the Hospital Wing without being addressed there," Hermione babbled, "and so we rushed right up, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us in because she said it was private. What did you _do_?"

Ron started shaking Ginny. "Bloody hell! _Never_ freak me out like that again!" he shouted. "I was really worried! I nearly owled _mum_, for heaven's sake, I was so terrified that you were dying or something! _Don't _do that!"

Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny, and, shockingly, tried to kiss her. She didn't know why, but she jolted away, out of his hold, and staggered into Luna. "What the -" Harry said, bewildered. "One day she's demanding _kiss me_, and the next she's rejecting me!"

"You're a big boy, Harry, get over it," Ginny snapped, and let Luna drag her away. "Hey, Lu, what's up?"

"Zabini knows," Luna said, getting straight to the point. Her usually-dreamy grey eyes were worried and highly distressed. "He knows about you and Malfoy going to the Forbidden Forest."

"I – what – but – how do you know about that – how does _he _know?" Ginny stammered, totally confused.

Luna shook her head, her two ash-blonde plaits flying over her shoulders. "It doesn't matter right now," she said, "the fact is, that Zabini that if he told everyone, you'd be _totally _screwed," she began to count off her fingers, "you'd probably be expelled for going into the Forest, you'd be dumped by Harry for going somewhere with Malfoy, Ron would kill you, Hermione would refuse to talk to you, and the Slytherins would never let you live this down."

Ginny slapped her hand to her forehead. "Oh no," she moaned, "this is all my fault." Then, realization: "Zabini isn't one to deliberately torture people just for the fun of it. What does he want?"

Luna grimaced. "Fifty Galleons."

All of the breath rushed from Ginny's lungs. "But – I don't _have _fifty Galleons!" she hissed. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Luna sighed. "I don't know. I can give you ten Galleons, but you'll have to scrape up the other fourty yourself – sorry. Does Draco have any money to lend you?" she asked.

Ginny nodded nervously. "Probably. I dunno if he'll let me have it, though," she replied.

They both fell into a contemplating silence; Luna looked up. "Ginny, I want to tell you that Harry tried to kiss me," she said unblushingly. Ginny stared up at one of her best friends, astonished. Luna continued, "I'm sorry. I didn't let him. I wanted to tell you first, seeing as he _is _your boyfriend. Not like Mione. I thought that was quite mean, and I told her. She put Harry back in his place after I put her through a good talking-to."

Ginny felt a rush of compassion towards Luna. "Really?" she said softly.

Luna smiled. "I may like to dream, Ginevra, but I'm not stupid," she said bluntly, and Ginny felt ashamed of all of the times she had doubted Luna's intelligence.

Ginny looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. Luna's arm slid around Ginny's hunched shoulders, gave the redhead a quick hug, and then scurried away, muttering something about being late for her meeting with the centaurs.

Harry came up behind Ginny and folded his arms around her bandaged waist. "Hey, beautiful," he whispered in her ear, the edge of his glasses nudging her head. He kissed her cheek, his breath tickling her neck and shifting her hair across her shoulders.

"Get a room!" yelled Ron, while Hermione gave him a disapproving look, before having a heated conversation in whispers. Ginny heard, _we're supposed to encourage him_, and _get him off my sister_. She rolled her eyes (luckily Harry didn't see), and, feeling deeply as though she was betraying someone, gave him a quick kiss before pulling from his hold and moving away.

"Gin, where're you going?" Harry asked, looking half-disappointed and half-relieved.

"Er," Ginny said, racking her brain for something to say. _"To find Draco Malfoy so that I can borrow forty Galleons from him to pay Blaise Zabini into not telling you that I frequently sneak out with your worst enemy?"_ Probably wouldn't work. "Er… I have to go and get something," she said, knowing that it was the worst excuse she'd ever come up with.

Harry frowned, evidently seeing through her lie. "Can I come?" he asked, smiling broadly at her, green eyes twinkling merrily.

"Um. No," said Ginny, and, seeing his face fall, added quickly, "it's – it's to do with your present. For… Valentine's Day. You don't want to spoil your romantic gift, do you?" _Ohh yeah. One-nil to Ginny. Well done, brain._

"Oh." Harry looked taken-aback. "Bit early, don't you think?"

"Would you rather I was _late_?" Ginny teased; Harry shook his head with a laugh, and let her go. She headed towards the dungeons, hoping to be able to sneak into the Slytherin common room and find Draco. As she stepped into the cold labyrinth of the underground of Hogwarts, her fingers found the necklace that now never left her throat, and, invisible, she tiptoed to the bust of Salazar Slytherin.

"Potion's breath," whispered Ginny – Draco had told her the Slytherin password, and she had told him the Gryffindor, on strict promises that they wouldn't use this knowledge to attack either house in the night – and crept in.

Blaise Zabini, the arrogant idiot himself, was slouched on the sofa, and looked up irritably as the wall swung open to reveal that no-one was standing there. "Oi!" he shouted, "someone shut the door."

Before anyone could bump into someone (meaning Ginny) who could not be seen, she hurried through the common room, and saw a tall, lean boy bent over a roll of parchment, platinum-blonde hair swinging into his pale face. Ginny smiled, and crouched beside him; she picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, drew a new parchment, and wrote _hello_ on it.

Draco's attention was all fixed on the small, neat writing. Then, underneath that, the words appeared:

_Guess who? You should have a pretty good idea – and if you don't, then you truly are thick. Go into the corridor. G x_

Draco stood, sweeping his things into his bag, and then slung it over his shoulder and left the common room. Once he was sure that no-one was around who could hear him, he said with a weary smile, "Okay, where are you?"

Ginny reached up for the amulet and shimmered into view beside Draco. "Boo," she said, and, cutting straight to the point, finished, "I need forty Galleons."

Draco gaped at her. "Er, _why_?" he asked, looking as though he had been Confunded several times.

"Your dear friend, Blaise Zabini, knows about our little night-time venture, and is demanding fifty Galleons not to tell all of Hogwarts and get us expelled," Ginny said dryly.

Draco's 'Confunded' look fell about three times heavier on his face. "But – what?" he spluttered, glaring. "I'll kill that stupid little asshole, I swear -"

"_No_!" Ginny interrupted sharply. "Don't give him any more reason to tell everyone. Just… please help me out here. I would pay for it myself but… I can't." Ginny felt ashamed and bitter about her family's poorness, and she glanced floor-wards before looking up into Draco's blue eyes. Peculiarly, a smirk was built heavily upon his lips. "What?" Ginny asked, suspicious.

"Sure," drawled Draco, inspecting his fingers casually, his smirk growing in size, "on _one _condition."

Ginny's heart sank with dread. _Oh, great, what the hell could Draco Rich Boy Malfoy possibly want with the Poor Ugly Weasley Brat? This won't be good._ "Yes?" she said, fighting to stay calm, though her mind was pounding with images of having to do Draco's homework or even having to _kiss _him…

"Remember something about what you want to be when you're older? Something that you had to show me?" Draco cocked one eyebrow. "Go on."

Ginny let out a breath that she hadn't known that she was holding, and rolled back her head with relief. "Er," she said, "sure." She started off towards the dungeon steps, beckoning for Draco to follow. They marched up many sets of stairs, winding through passageways that Ginny could tell that Draco was struggling to memorize. Finally, she stopped in front of a withered old door with the words BROOM CUPBOARD emblazoned upon it.

"You can't tell anyone," Ginny said, her expression suddenly very serious, as her mind shrieked, _Ginny, what are you doing? This is your big secret, you can't just __**tell**__ someone!_ "If you tell a soul, I swear, you will end up on the receiving end of a very unpleasant Bat-Bogey Hex."

Draco nodded sincerely. "You have my word," he said softly, and stepped back to let Ginny do her thing.

"Well, you know how the paintings in Hogwarts all move? Someone has to paint them, and charm them to life… and I just thought, you know…" Ginny trailed off, leaving Draco to conclude the left; she looked up and down the ridiculously narrow walkaway, and then whispered, "_Horus incaltrium_." The door shuddered in its frame, and then its door-handle twisted into the shape of a bird in mid-flight. Ginny pushed it open, and wordlessly sent a globe of light from her wand to the chandeliers, setting each miniscule candle aflame.

She stepped out of the doorway so that Draco could view her studio properly. Paintings. Paintings on the walls, stacked on the floor, lined up in shabby cupboards. They were mostly of Ginny (she had no-one to pose for her without having to tell them why) or of pictures of her friends.

There was Luna gazing dreamily into space; Hermione bent over a book; Harry laughing about something; Harry looking sullen; Hermione smiling cutely beside Ron; Ron, Harry and Hermione all with their arms casually slung around each others' shoulders, grinning; Pippa Tonks looking embarrassed about something; Ginny, hand in hand with Harry. Watching Draco's facial expressions as his gaze drifted across each picture – something unreadable crossed his eyes as he saw the last one of Ginny and Harry.

"Well… what do you think?" Ginny asked nervously.

Draco seemed stunned. "It's… it's incredible," he said honestly. "What's through there?" he pointed towards another door, with _Ginny Weasley – do not enter_ painted on it in crude orange paint.

"Nothing!" Ginny said hastily, leaping sideways to block Draco's path. "Nothing, I swear, you don't want to go in _there_, it's just a cupboard."

"Just a cupboard, eh?" Draco smirked, "then let me see." He tried to side-step around her, but Ginny shuffled left, then right, then left again, to get in his way.

"No."

"Aw, please?" Draco pulled a puppy-dog face. Then he looked interestedly at the wall. "Hey, did you really paint that? It's _amazing_."

"Which one?" asked Ginny, turning to follow his gaze, but before she could see anything, he had zipped past her, racing through the door. "_Draco_!" It was too late.

He had frozen, staring through into Ginny's artist studio. There were paintbrushes stuck clumsily in pots all around the room, and on a big easel was a giant painting that was obviously still in progress. It depicted a huge, shaggy grey monster, roaring; a tall, lean, blonde boy looking determinedly towards it, wand pointed bravely at the creature's face – and they were, quite clearly, in the Forbidden Forest.

"Umm," said Ginny, "okay, we're done here, nothing to see." She hooked her arm through Draco's elbow and dragged him backwards. However, despite him being skinny, he was surprisingly strong, and very difficult to move; she soon gave up and slunk away through the door, back to her gallery.

"It's…" Draco seemed to be struggling for words, "I… I look exactly like that. It's … perfect," he finally said, and Ginny quickly pulled her hair out of its still-muddy ponytail so that her hair could hide her now-scarlet cheeks. She was bright red, but she felt happier than she had done in a very long time.

"Thanks," she finally said, and when she returned her gaze to Draco's face, she found that he was looking at her with a strange expression, sort of like happiness and sadness all mixed together. "So," she said, smiling, "how about that forty Galleons?"

Draco's eyes narrowed mischievously. "One more condition," he said, grinning, holding up a finger. He swirled it around, jabbed his finger towards the gallery, and said with another puppy-face. "Can I have one?"

Ginny blushed again. _Her first fan – Draco Malfoy_. "Um. Sure," she said, frowning slightly at the oddity of it all. "Which one?" She moved back into the other room, closing the studio door tightly after Draco.

Draco glanced around, and then pointed. "That one." It was a relatively small painting, in great detail – of Ginny. It potrayed her sitting by the lake, dabbling her bare feet in the water, smiling, with Hermione and Luna grinning behind her.

"What – but – why?" Ginny stammered. "I mean, you can have it, yeah," she picked up the painting and handed it to Draco, "but why do you want _that _one?"

Draco frowned at it. "I dunno," he said, after a moment of regarding Ginny's painted face. "I like it." He grinned down at Ginny, and then added, "thanks. I'll give you the forty Galleons when I can get it out of Gringotts, okay?"

Ginny nodded, and as she tilted her head up to look into Draco's face, she realized that he was very close, and they were all alone… Draco was looking at her intently, and her breathing was slowing down… "I have to go," Ginny interrupted, stepping away before anything awkward happened. "I'll… I'll see you later." Then she left the studio in a great hurry, and, as she hastened down the narrow corridor to her next lesson, she wondered why she felt slightly disappointed.

**A/N:** Heh. Ginny is starting to feel some luuurrvvv… XD Please review.


	27. Of Butts and Of Pumpkin Juice

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Early February. Draco gets yelled at, and discovers what is wrong with his backside. Lmao. Yay! I fixed my disclaimer. WOOP.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Of Butts and Of Pumpkin Juice**_

_**DRACO**_

Twisting. Turning. Hot. Cold. Fresh air. Stuffy. Get out… get out…Needed… Writhing in his bedsheets like they were something evil. Draco could barely breathe – his eyes were rolled up inside his head, half-trying to block out what was going on in his brain, half-wanting to see..

"Imperius!'' roared a voice in Draco's head, and then suddenly every single one of his thoughts disappeared, replaced by blissful ignorance. _Let go of the fight. Look back at me_. Draco obediently stared into his brain, and saw Lord Voldemort's gleaming red eyes.

"Master," said Draco simply, and then the ignorance left. Fear constricted his heart as he realized that the Dark Lord was in his head, and he hastened to hide memories of him and Ginny. "What is it that you wish?"

"_What do you __**think**_?" snarled Lord Voldemort, and he slammed his palms down onto a desk; the vision of it made Draco's head swim. "I want the Stone of Montol, Malfoy, and I want it now… you have had _five months _to get it! I trusted you, Malfoy, and when you said that you were weakening her, _I trusted you_! But no-one, _no-one_, Malfoy, takes this long to weaken!"

"Except you, my Lord," said Bellatrix Lestrange's voice hurriedly, always the first to kiss up to the Dark Lord.

Lord Voldemort glared at her, and then returned an icy stare to Draco. "Well, Malfoy? What have you to say for yourself?" he demanded. "Or do you merely _bask _in your own shame?"

It was hard to speak, but Draco forced the words out. "My… my Lord. She… she is strong. Don't you remember …that girl you possessed… a few years back? They are the … the same person! She is stronger than you would think, my Lord … but she is weak, I promise you, weak!" he gasped out. "Please. More… more time."

The Dark Lord glowered. "I honestly don't know why I put up with you," he said, and raised his wand…

"_No_!" cried Professor Snape, rising from his seat. "Malfoy is a disrespectful, arrogant _toad_, my Lord, but do not harm him. He may prove useful." Draco and Snape both knew that the part-time Death Eater, part-time Potions master, was lying – Draco had to be kept safe for his mother's Unbreakable Vow, or Snape would die.

"Go on," said Lord Voldemort coldy, inspecting Snape through hard, soulless eyes.

Snape's lip curled. "The girl is close to Potter," he explained, "and if, while Malfoy is weakening the girl, he could perhaps," he smirked, "_weasel_," a special emphasis, "some information about Potter out of her."

Lord Voldemort regarded Severus Snape for a moment, before smirking cruelly. "Excellent idea, Snape," he said silkily. "I like the way you think." He looked back into Draco's head. "Very well then. I expect fortnightly updates on what is going on with the girl and what Potter is doing. Should you miss these meetings, I shall be very…" Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed, "_displeased_," (Draco gulped), "do I make myself _per_fectly clear?"

Draco nodded, and then he was hurled back onto his bed, his brain whirling around inside his skull, and his eyes feeling as though they had been pushed far back inside his head and then allowed to pop forwards again. "Eurgh," he moaned, grabbing feverishly at his forehead. "Please get him another method of talking…" Draco slumped forwards and mumbled into his pillow, "What went wrong with good old Floo Powder?"

As it happened, a lot had gone wrong with 'good old Floo Powder'. Draco walked down to breakfast the next morning, only to be welcomed by a half-empty Great Hall. The ones who remained were either being reprimanded for being loud, or were talking mournfully amongst themselves.

"Where is everyone?" Draco wondered aloud, and sank into the nearest space. Luckily he was spare the daily awkward shuffling between people as they all glared at him, due to the fact that the Slytherin table was nearly empty. He grabbed some bacon and a bagel – there was no competition for it. The whole thing was very surreal. Draco looked over his shoulder and saw Sanchia with a few friends at the Hufflepuff table. "Sanchia," he called.

Sanchia smiled, whispered excitedly to her friends, and then rose, sweeping towards the Slytherin table. "Hello," she whispered huskily, with a flirtatious grin, "I haven't seen you in a while."

"What's happening? Where is everyone?" Draco asked, patting the seat beside him for her to sit down, getting some more bacon and eggs.

Sanchia cast a grin towards her friends, and then sat down beside him, taking a strawberry from the fruit platter. "A Death Eater Flooed into Aberforth Dumbledore's house while a Ministry inspection was going on this morning," she said simply; Draco paled. She continued, not seeing his stricken expression, "so _naturally_, everyone's gone to see. There are – allegedly, of course – Ministry officials unconscious left, right and centre… and one of them was killed. Everyone wants a good look before they're carted away. Umbridge is there, so a few people are planning to write 'bitch' on her face."

Draco snorted, an appreciative smile on his thin lips, and he was going to say more to Sanchia when he noticed a very strange look on her face. She was looking at him intently, her chin resting in her hands… almost gazing _dreamily_ at him. It was quite unnerving to have a girl two years younger stare at him like that, and, for want of something to do so that he wouldn't have to talk to her, Draco reached across for the jug of pumpkin juice and poured some.

She was still staring.

Draco sipped at his pumpkin juice, savouring the fact that, without eighty percent of the Hogwarts students, no-one had spiked it or cursed it. Good old pumpkin juice, always could be relied on through thick and thin.

…

Why was she still staring?!

"Do you want some?" demanded Draco finally, getting annoyed at the never-ending _blink, blink, blink, blink, sigh, blink, blink_. He was being harsh, but it was irritating him greatly.

Sanchia looked taken-aback. Then she smiled, baring neat, even white teeth, tossing back some of her wavy hair, and, making sure to flutter her eyelashes, said, "Yes, please." Draco smiled at this; she was so different to Ginny. Ginny would just barge into him and snatch the jug of juice. He chuckled to himself, and poured her some into a nearby goblet.

"You're such a gentleman, Draco," Sanchia purred, observing him with twinkling grey eyes over the top of her goblet. She looked up at him through her thick eyelashes. "These days, gentlemen are _really_ hard to find."

"No doubt you'll manage, though," Draco said dryly. He was revelling in his luck at how much breakfast he could get, and was helping himself to a large portion of warm pancakes.

"Oh, trust me, I have," Sanchia said, smiling seductively at him. She, without warning, threw her head sideways to look back at the Hufflepuff table, brown waves flying out at Draco so that he sat back promptly to avoid being hit by them. She then slowly looked back, pulling at one semi-formed chestnut curl wistfully. "I gotta go," she pouted, her eyelashes batting repeatedly for every syllable. "Talk to you later, 'kay?"

"Er," said Draco.

"Coolness," she replied, stood, and then, curling her hand and fluttering her fingers at him in a cute hand-wave, "see ya." Sanchia winked at him, before launching off towards her table, her skirt (far shorter than anyone else's, Draco noticed) swinging. She dropped down delicately beside her friends and began to whisper to them delightedly.

Unaware that he even wanted to know what they were saying, Draco leaned closer to eavesdrop.

"Ohmigod, Sanchia, what did you _do_?"

"Calm down, Louise. I just… played it cool." _Yeah right_.

"How can you 'play it cool' with him? He's so _hot_!" Draco's eyes shot up into his hair. _Sorry, come again?_

"I _love _his hair." Draco involuntarily put a hand to his head, feeling his white-blonde tresses.

"Shut it, girls. I just think he's really nice -"

"And hot!"

"-Karen! Please! Restrain yourself!" Sanchia's voice came louder, before dropping again. "I just think that he's really nice. Remember, at the Yule Ball, he helped me up? I feel _so _embarrassed that I thought he was only sixteen!"

Draco grumbled. _Yeah, so am I_. He rolled his eyes.

"You did _what_? He is _no way _sixteen. I would have probably thought he was eighteen or something."

"No, stupid, because then he wouldn't be at the school."

"Oh yeah…"

"So you _only _like him because he's nice."

"Yeah."

"…"

"Okay, and he's sort of cute."

"SORT OF?" one of the other girls screeched; a blonde girl who Draco did not know to have ever seen before at Hogwarts.

"Okay, okay! He's _hot_!"

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Draco snatched up his schoolbag and stood. The instant his rear left the bench, the Hufflepuff girls' chatter hushed. He made his way to the Great Hall door quickly, but he still could not escape one last lingering comment that would haunt him for the rest of the day:

"Will you look at that butt?"

Draco sprinted up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and slammed himself in. "Myrtle!" he cried, dropping his bag on the tiles. She didn't come out in one second… two… two and a half… he ran to the mirror, hitched up his robes, and inspected the back of his trousers. "What the hell?"

Myrtle floated out. "You seem rather distressed," she commented. "What's wro- Draco. What the hell are you doing?" she asked flatly; he was now peering at his backside in the mirror, a worried look on his face.

Draco reddened. "Some girls in the Great Hall," he said nervously, glancing behind him incase they had followed him and were listening behind the door – or something equally ridiculous, "said something about my arse."

Myrtle stared at him.

Draco stopped and tried to contemplate what he would do if Ginny or Myrtle came running up to him, complaining, "_some boys in the Great Hall said something about my arse_". He would probably laugh. And then laugh some more. Staring at him was actually being very considerate of Myrtle. Draco turned red.

"Sorry, tell me again what the hell you were doing?" Myrtle asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously behind her thick glasses. "Was it actually something important, or were you just gazing at your own bottom because you felt like it?"

Draco held out his hands in a weren't-you-listening kind of way. "Some girls," he said, very slowly, "said something about my arse. I would like to know what is wrong with it."

Myrtle bit back a snigger. Putting on a very serious expression, she offered, "Turn around, then, and I'll give you my judgement on it." She folded her arms, and looked at him expectantly, eyebrows slightly raised.

Draco's face gained a lot of colour, and, feeling extremely stupid, turned around. It felt very strange knowing that a ghost was checking out his bum. "Well?" he croaked, discomfited.

Myrtle sighed. "Put your robes back on, Draco," she said, "we need to have a serious talk."

Bewildered, Draco slid his robes over his shoulders and swivelled to face the fifteen-year-old ghost. "What?"

"Now, I'm not sure if anyone has ever explained this to you before," Myrtle said, struggling to keep a straight face, "but, when boys and girls get to a certain age, they begin to get _attracted _to each other and -"

"Myrtle!" Draco cried, mouth open. "I'm not a total retard!"

"You had me fooled," said a deadpan female voice, and a redhead stepped from, as always, the shadows.

"Ginny – you are not helping," Draco snapped, scowling at her. He fixed his stormy gaze next on the ghost beside him. "Myrtle – I'm not stupid. Get to the point. Fast."

Myrtle rolled her eyes at Ginny, as if to say _oh isn't he __**so **__melodramatic?_ She then continued, "My point _is_, Draco, that those girls weren't looking at your," she coughed delicately, "_behind_," she raised an eyebrow, "because they found anything wrong with it – on the contrary, they found a lot _right _with it."

Now _Draco_ stared at _**Myrtle**_The game had switched players. "What?" he exclaimed, nonplussed.

Ginny sorted it out quickly. "_A girl was checking out Draco's arse_?" she said incredulously. Something unreadable crossed her face, but Draco dismissed it, and turned on Myrtle.

"Myrtle, you're joking, right?" he spluttered. "Who would – but – why –" he gasped. "_Sanchia was hitting on me_!"

Ginny frowned. "Sanchia? I thought she was that sweet Spanish girl in her fifth-year. She's really smart; she's doing her Charms NEWTS this year, two years early, and then spending her last two years on a crash course for Disguise and Concealment so

that she can be an Metamorphagus," she said.

Myrtle blinked behind her thick spectacles. "How do you know?" she asked interestedly.

"Myrtle! Ginny! I don't care! The point is, _why_ was she checking me out?" Draco interrupted. "She doesn't _fancy _me or anything."

Myrtle and Ginny exchanged incomprehensible looks.

Draco stepped back suspiciously. "You've given each other the Girl Look," he said, "what do you know that I don't? What girl thing that I don't know about is going on here?"

Myrtle and Ginny whispered for a moment, reminding Draco, and making him uncomfortable, of Sanchia and her friends. Then, they turned, and Myrtle said, "Sanchia fancies you." It was flat, frank and to-the-point.

And it made Draco gag on his own spit.

"Ohmigod, are you some kind of social retard?" asked Myrtle, mouth slightly open in a mixture of disgust and anxiety. "I really worry what would have happened if _she _told you."

Draco knew that Myrtle couldn't pound him on the back to help him regain his breath, but Ginny could, and she was just _standing _there, regarding him with large, oddly _accusatory,_ hazel eyes. "Don't mind me – while I… die…" Draco choked out, grabbing the sink before his knees buckled.

"You'll live," said Ginny dully. Then, with the most angry, tempestuous look in her eyes that Draco had ever seen, she said, "I have to go," and swept from the bathroom.

Draco collapsed against the sink and whacked his head on the tap. "Ow!" he cried, kneeling and holding his temple tenderly. "Ow. That was stupid. Very, very stupid." Staggering to his feet and coughing a little to clear his windpipe, Draco said with a chuckle, "That went well. Where did Ginny go?"

Myrtle was staring at him with a _you are totally hopeless_ expression evident in her eyes. "You have _no _idea, do you?" she asked heavily. When Draco only blinked at her, baffled, she sighed, and returned to her toilet cubicle.

"Why is everyone either acting like I'm stupid or incredibly handsome today?" Draco said wearily. "I don't want either – I just want everyone to treat me _normally_."

"Well, until you wise up," came Myrtle's voice, echoing from inside her cubicle, "that's not very likely to happen."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Draco, more confused than ever; but Myrtle did not respond, and the flummoxed young Slytherin was forced back out into the world of extremely mystifying force of nature known as _women_.

**A/N:** Haha. I love this chapter. It's soo funneh… well I think so. XD Please review! (if you do I'll give you cookies –brandishes plate of cookies-)


	28. Burned

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Sorry, but this chapter has _also _been divided into two, as it just go tooooo long. Mah bad. P Early February. Ginny and Draco prepare a potion. Myrtle declares her love. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Twenty-Eight: Burned**_

_**GINNY**_

Valentine's Day. It was only ten days away, and Ginny had used 'I'm getting something ready for Valentine's Day' as an excuse on Harry at least six times. He was already suspicious, and, as the damned celebration day drew nearer, Ginny realized that she didn't have _anything_, much less something that took six days to prepare.

_I can't even __**think**__ of anything that takes six days to prepare_, Ginny thought desperately. Well. She _could_, but they were hardly romantic. Things like taming a dragon, befriending a Slytherin (Ginny smiled at this), creating a portrait – "that's it!" Ginny cried. _I could paint a picture of us._

She ran down towards her studio, already sketching out designs in her head. By a fountain? In the forest? By the Lake? In the Common Room? Then a thought struck Ginny. She'd have to tell Harry that she painted it; she'd have to let _everyone _know about her secret. Harry wouldn't be able to keep the secret anyway.

"I could pretend that someone else made it," Ginny suggested to herself as she stood, contemplating ideas, in the narrow passageway before she entered her 'broom cupboard'. However, Ginny knew that giving away the credit of one of her prints would be like giving away a very small child – she would eventually blurt out: "_I did it, I did it_!"

Ginny huffed out her breath. What else took six days to make or get? "Er…" she said, drumming her fingers against the wood of her door. A knitted scarf? A rare book? A special quill? A potion – _a potion_. She would turn up on Valentine's Day with a very romantic potion that takes a long time (allegedly) to make.

_Oh __**God**__. What is a __**romantic **__potion takes six days to make, but can secretly be made in about two hours?_ Ginny had no idea – for that, she needed:

"Draco," Ginny gasped, grabbing his shoulder, breathless from running around the school for thirty-odd minutes, searching for him. She had even asked _Sanchia_, that stupid brainless _ditz _who didn't have enough brains to fill an _inkpot_, let alone her big, stupid, pretty head – but The Bimbo, as Ginny had now christened her, only became extremely angry and defensive of Draco.

"Whoa, what's your problem?" Draco asked, turning. A few passers-by were staring pointedly at them, and Ginny dragged him around a corner, away from their jeers and glaring. Draco raised one slim, pale eyebrow at her hand clutched around his elbow; she hastily let go, turning a peachy shade of pink.

"Draco…" she said, pulling out the word like bubblegum, grinning at him. "You're just _so _smart and could do absolutely anything you wanted-"

"What do you want?" asked Draco boredly, smirking at her.

Ginny put on a look a mock-astonishment. "Wh-what?" she gasped. "I don't want _anything_, Draco, darling, surely it's enough that sometimes I just feel in an _appreciative_ mood and want to compliment you?" she simpered.

Draco looked down at her, an amused expression on his face. "Wow, 'darling', no less. This _must _be big," he commented.

"Er, I need you to help me make a romantic potion that should, in theory, take six days to make," Ginny blurted out, batting her short eyelashes hopefully at him. She knew that fluttering her eyelashes hadn't worked with Sanchia, but knew? She could give it a shot.

Draco made a funny sort of gasp noise. "Oh-my-God," he said, clapping a hand to his heart, "you wanted something. How – _how_ – did I know?"

"Oh, pleease, Draco," Ginny begged, tugging his sleeve like a toddler who wants her toy, "you know you _want _to."

"Want to what? Help you make an illegal potion?" Draco said wryly.

Ginny grinned cheekily up at him. "Yes?"

Draco smiled at her. "There is nothing I would rather spend my time doing," he said. "May I ask, do you even _know _which 'romantic potion' you intend to make? And why does it only take six days in _theory_?" he frowned.

Ginny bit her lip, white flashing against the pink. "Erm. Well, all the time I spent with _you_, I told Harry that I was preparing his Valentine's Day present… and now I need something romantic that takes six days to make – in theory, because now we don't have six days. We only have four. Aand… I have no _idea _what to make." She beamed. "That's where you come in!"

Draco groaned and rolled his eyes. "Ah, well," he said simply, and began muttering under his breath, counting things off his fingers. Wondering what on earth was going on, Ginny stood and watched his for a good two minutes before he straightened up, nodding in satisfaction. "The Potion of Everlasting Love," he said, "it takes eight days to make, which is close enough… but if we squash it a little, we can probably fit it into three."

Ginny grinned. "Great. What can I do to help?"

Draco held up a hand to silence her, in a way very similar to Professor Snape. "This is an illegal potion, Ginny. It can be used badly, so we're only going to make a tiny amount – and we need somewhere to hide it," he said thoughtfully.

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," said Ginny immediately, "that's where Ron, Harry and Mione went to brew a Polyjuice-" she remembered that she wasn't supposed to tell Draco. "Er. Never mind," she said hurriedly, and waved her hand for Draco to go on.

Draco regarded her for a moment, knowing that she was avoiding telling him something, but he didn't ask her about it. "I need you to steal a cauldron from Professor Snape," he finally said.

"What – why?"

"Ginny, this is going to take three days to make. You have Potions twice. I have Potions once. We wouldn't be able to use our own cauldrons – we need to steal one of Snape's," Draco explained, as if it were extremely obvious.

"Okay, okay," Ginny said, reddening. Then, she noticed something. "You know my time-table?"

Draco stared at her, confused; then he remembered what he had said, and turned slightly pink. "Erm," he said, not quite sure what to say, "um, yeah."

Ginny felt her cheeks burning, but she nodded. Ignoring her flaming face, she asked, "how am I supposed to steal a cauldron? I can't just waltz in there and say, 'oh, hello, Professor Snape, how are you today and by the way, can I steal one of your cauldrons to make an illegal potion?'!"

"Fair point," Draco said, but he wasn't really listening as he was scribbling a long list down. "Just… sneak in, I guess."

Ginny glared at his unhelpfulness. "Fine," she snapped, irritated at his attitude, "I will." She stood, and, moving so fast that her scarlet ponytail struck Draco's shoulder, turned, before storming towards the dungeons.

_Draco is so annoying, sometimes, I swear he's as bad as __**Harry**__. This isn't going to be easy, stealing a cauldron from under the nose of a teacher who would like nothing better than to __**expel **__me. But I'm doing it! And I'm not complaining! Draco __**could **__help, but no. NO, Draco's too good for that_.

She paused to push open the heavy dungeon door, and stepped down into the enveloping coldness. Hugging herself, Ginny's breath came out in tiny swirls of white as she hurried down the worn, slate steps. Arriving at the large, dark, oak door, Ginny hesitated; taking a moment to gather her courage, she peered inside.

No-one.

Ginny glanced backwards down the corridor, and then, touching the ever-present amulet, where it sat under her home-knitted green jumper, and ducked inside. She stole through the grand Potions chamber, weaving between desks, hopping across Professor Snape's raised dais, and then pushed lightly on the door marked 'CAULDRON STORE ROOM'. It didn't open – but then again, she had hardly expected it to.

"_Alohamora_," Ginny whispered; there was a click and a creak, but nothing else disturbed the disconcerting silence that swallowed up the Potions classroom. She fiddled with the door handle for a second, and then the door swung open with a long, low groan that Ginny was sure would alert the grumpy Professor to her being there.

She stepped into the gloom, lit her wand, and cast its slightly-dimmed glow around the shelves. She selected a large, sturdy-looking brass cauldron, muttered a Cloaking spell and a Levitation Charm, before hastening out again, clicking the store-room door behind her. Ginny rushed up three flights of stairs to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and caused a lot of alarm to Myrtle and Draco when the door suddenly crashed open and a floating cauldron, seemingly self-manned, zoomed in.

"Ta da," said Ginny, lowering it to the floor quite clumsily, and wavering into view.

"Wh – Ginny – where'd you come from?" Myrtle demanded, clutching her chest. "You can't just _appear _from the middle of nowhere; you're not a ghost and you certainly can't Apparate."

Ginny glowered. "I just did, okay?" she said with a sigh. "I got the cauldron." It was quite obvious that she had stolen the cauldron, but she felt as though she needed to announce it.

No-one looked up.

Well, Myrtle smiled and began to chat to her, so technically it wasn't 'no-one' it was just… 'Draco'. It still annoyed Ginny that he wasn't paying attention to what a wonderful cauldron she'd taken, though she wasn't sure why.

"- I mean, can you believe it? Nick? And _me_?" Myrtle concluded, with a dreamy sigh. "I hope so. He's so amazing."

Ginny frowned, only catching the last few sentences, and totally bamboozled as to what Myrtle was talking about. "Sorry, what did you say?" she asked apologetically.

Moaning Myrtle scowled at being ignored for a whole three sentences, but, seemingly, nothing could dampen her mood, and she quite delightedly repeated herself. "I _said_, Ginny, that when I was quite bravely venturing out of my toilets, I met Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. He was rather surprised to see me, but we had a very long, polite conversation before he had to go and see the Bloody Baron about something Peeves had done. And… well, before he left…" Myrtle giggled. "…he said that he liked my glasses."

Ginny's hazel eyes widened for a minute, and she considered laughing – but that would be mean, and it would probably hurt Myrtle's feelings. "Er, Myrtle," said Ginny, "do you, by any chance… fancy Nearly Headless Nick?"

Myrtle looked incensed. "For one thing," she said haughtily, "his name is not 'Nearly Headless' Nick. It is Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. For another thing, I don't _fancy _him. It's not one of those stupid girly crushes." She made a face about 'stupid girly crushes', and Ginny blushed, remembering a 'stupid girly crush' that she had once had over Harry.

"If it's not a stupid girly crush," asked Ginny, "then can I ask what the hell it is?"

Myrtle thought about this for a moment. Then, swooning, with the back of one hand to her forehead, she declared dramatically, "it's _love_!"

And, rather interestingly, Draco's head snapped up, joining the conversation immediately. "What's love?" he asked, very sharply, and, for some reason, his ears were becoming an unappealing shade of purple.

"You and Sanchia," retorted Ginny – Draco blushed. "Mind your own business." Ginny turned back to Myrtle. "So, let me get this straight. You're in love… with Nearly H -" (Myrtle glared daggers at Ginny) "I mean, Sir Nicholas," Ginny hastily corrected herself.

Draco looked up again, snorting. "Myrtle's in love with Nearly Headless Nick?" he guffawed, holding his sides with laughter.

Myrtle's grey eyes quickly grew irate and violent. "_Don't call him Nearly Headless Nick_!" she screeched. "And what's wrong with being in love with him?!" she said in an acid tone.

"Yes, and, Draco, as far as _love _goes, you're hardly one to talk," Ginny said coolly, "need I remind you of Pansy Parkinson and the Ditz known as your soon-to-be _fiancée_, Sanchia?" She raised an eyebrow.

Draco suddenly shut up, looking very sullen.

"I didn't think so. Get back to your potion ingredients," Ginny smirked, and she returned her attention to Myrtle. "What are you going to do about this, then? You can't just float around throwing out love declarations, you know."

"Aw, really?" Draco piped up, pouting. "That was my whole theme for Valentine's Day. Dress up as Cupid, flutter around, and shoot arrows saying 'I LOVE YOU' up everybody's -"

"_Draco_," said Ginny warningly. "Back to your potion!"

Draco pulled a stupid face at her, but hunkered down and continued crushing, cutting, and mixing various animal and plant parts. There was a moment of almost-hush as he fiddled around and the two girls, one dead, one alive, gossiped about boys, before Draco sat back on his heels, and said, "Gather around, if you please."

Myrtle glared at him for interrupting her, but Ginny nudged her, and they crouched beside Draco. "Yes?"

"Most of the ingredients are quite standard, and I have them all prepared here," said Draco, indicating the many laid out components. "However, it's the ones that I don't have – so to say, the Class A substances that _make_ this potion illegal – I need you both to get for me. Luckily, they're not needed until the later stages of the potion, so you have some time to get it while the standard elements of the brew get ready."

Ginny looked over the things spread out before her, and then looked at Draco's notes. He was pouring a steady stream of scaldingly hot water into the cauldron from the tip of his wand, while scrabbling about with his other hand for a cauldron base-and-tripod-set that he could prop the cauldron on and light the fire underneath.

He positioned everything carefully, and then said, "Okay, here's the list of the things I need… acromantula eggs… basilisk scale… erumpent horn fluid… crushed manticore sting… and, uh, dried infected-pus from a werewolf bite…" Draco grimaced.

Ginny made a face at Myrtle and Draco. "Yummy."

"Well, Potter's drinking it, not me, so I don't really care," shrugged Draco with a teasing grin at Ginny to let her know he was kidding. "Anyway, the acromantula eggs, the sting, and pus from the werewolf bite can be found in Professor Snape's private stores, so you'll need to get in there and steal those, Ginny, or Myrtle."

"Where are his private stores?" Myrtle asked.

"Good question. Find out."

Ginny and Myrtle exchanged dubious looks. This plan didn't seem very fool-proof, and, the fools that the two girls were, saw themselves most likely crashing through it in a whirlwind of chaos.

"However, the basilisk scale… well. Ginny knows where that is," Draco said, giving her a meaningful glance.

Ginny frowned; Myrtle said crossly, "Er, hello? So do I! I mean, the entrance _does _happen to be in the toilet that I've lived in for the past sixty-six _years_!"

Draco shrugged. "Okay, Myrtle knows where it is too," he added for good measure, "and I don't. Happy? Now, the erumpent horn fluid is going to be more difficult to find. It is a Class-A+ Non-Tradable Substance, and therefore _probably_ isn't just going to be sitting at the bottom of some first-year's trunk. I _have, _however, found out that Mundungus Fletcher will be visiting Professor Tonks tomorrow and arriving by Floo Powder at approximately six o'clock, so I recommend you waylay him in a nearby fireplace, deal bargains, and order that you have the erumpent horn fluid by the next day."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "How do you know all of this?" she demanded. "You've only had fifteen minutes when I wasn't standing right next to you, you haven't had time to snoop."

"Tonks was complaining to Professor Sinistra very loudly in the staff room as I came up," Draco grinned. "With a few Loudening charms, I'm unstoppable."

"Definitely," said Myrtle cynically, smirking.

"I'll deal with Dung," said Ginny, "and Myrtle, if you could float around, maybe get the Bloody Baron to slip a few secrets about Professor Snape's private stores." She winked. "Maybe Nicholas could help you."

Myrtle said very quickly, "Yes!" and then her grey skin turned paler, showing a blush rise on her dead cheeks.

Draco nodded. "I'll be here for most of my free time now, so if you want to find me about anything, I'll probably either be here, making the potion, or _perhaps _in the library, researching the potion." He looked pointedly at Ginny. "This is going to take up all of my next three days. For who do I have _that _to thank?"

Ginny unblushingly raised her hand, and grinned at him. "Thank you, though, you know you're wonderful," she teased, hugging his free arm.

"It's been said before," mumbled Draco jokingly, but his face was slightly pink, and for some reason Ginny felt extremely aware that she was very close to him – she leapt away as if he was on fire, and scooted to the other edge of the cauldron, feeling as though she might as well have been burned.

**A/N:** Aww. Ginny and Draco, sittin' in the the Whompin' Willow, … K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Lol. XD Please review.


	29. The Black Abyss

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Sorry, but this chapter has _also _been divided into two, as it just go tooooo long. Mah bad. P Early February. Ginny and Myrtle go down below… and I don't mean Australia. P Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Black Abyss**_

_**GINNY**_

_Ginny unblushingly raised her hand, and grinned at him. "Thank you, though, you know you're wonderful," she teased, hugging his free arm._

"_It's been said before," mumbled Draco jokingly, but his face was slightly pink, and for some reason Ginny felt extremely aware that she was very close to him – she leapt away as if he was on fire, and scooted to the other edge of the cauldron, feeling as though she might as well have been burned._

…

"We'd better go, then, and get started," said Ginny, "come on." She hauled herself to her feet, dusting her trousers off. "You coming to the Chamber of Secrets, Myr?" she asked in a spooky voice, wiggling her fingers mystically.

"Yeah, why not," said Myrtle, standing, from where she had sat, cross-legged, dreaming of Sir Nicholas.

"What – you – you can open the Chamber of Secrets? I thought only Potter could do that," spluttered Draco.

Ginny, stopping beside the sinks, looked over at him. "Yes, Draco," she said sarcastically. "When being possessed by the Dark Lord, I have to wander around the castle _with _my knife and my hands stained with own blood to find the boy I fancy and ask him if he fancies speaking Parseltongue to let me revive the epitome of all evil." She shot him a withering look, and then ducked down to the level of the taps.

Ginny was very close to the silver tap. It was rusting; the only part that wouldn't fade was the tiny, perfect silver snake that weaved around and around the tap. She stroked the snake's head, mocking fondness for it, and then lowered her lips to the snake and whispered to it, "_Sssaazanaasaall_."

There was a tremendous creak, and then the sinks began to shift shapes. They moved forwards, turned slightly, forming a large circle, in the centre of which a gaping tunnel mouth sat. The main sink (the one that Ginny had spoken to) dropped down and slotted away underneath a grid. Ginny stepped onto the grid, and peered nervously down the tunnel. The only times she had ever been in this tunnel, she had either been:

1) Possessed, and therefore unable to be scared

Or 2) Flying back up it, holding onto Harry, and therefore too blinded by bliss at holding his hand to be scared

Now, however, she had neither Harry nor a demon-controlled mind, and it _was _quite scary. Ginny took a deep breath, and was about to step forwards, when she heard, "Ginny?"

She looked over at Draco, grateful that he had prevented her from jumping. "Yes?"

Draco looked ashamed; his face was rather pink. "Er," he stuttered, "be careful."

Ginny gave him an appraising look, but nodded. She stepped forwards… "Ginny?"

_Okay, __**now **__it's just annoying_. "Yes?" Ginny asked, struggling to keep her tone friendly.

Draco was vividly red. "Um, Ginny, this may be a bad time," he said anxiously, his entire face crimson; it gave an odd contrast to his pale hair, "but, I was, um, wondering… are you, maybe, free for the Hogsmeade trip… on… Valentine's Day?"

Ginny's heart lurched painfully in her chest, and before she could stop the flow of words to try and be more tactful, she blurted, "Are you asking me _out_?"

Draco's face only increased in colour. "No, er - I mean - no, but, sort of – no – I mean – not _out_," he babbled. "I'm not asking you _out_. I'm asking you… there."

Ginny frowned, not quite sure that she understood what he meant. "Er, okay," she said, "it might be a problem with Harry…" She then saw something that made her feel as though her heart was being pulled in two different directions: Draco's face fell slightly, and then he quickly covered it with a look of casual indifference. She also then found that she _really _didn't feel like going for a romantic date with Harry. Why not have fun with Draco? "Oh, screw Harry. I'll come with you. Pretend I'm sick or something, but I'll give him his present or he'll be _really _pissed."

Draco's face lit up, and Ginny felt it tug painfully at her heart. "Okay," he said brightly, "I'll – I'll see you later, then." He waved lamely, and returned to his potion, measuring out toad liver and dropping it into bubbling water.

Ginny smiled, and looked back down into the black hole beneath her. Foot forwards… "Ginny?"

"_What_?" asked Ginny exasperatedly, leaning back against the sink.

Draco grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," he mumbled, "be careful."

Ginny gave him a look. "Good_bye_, Draco," she said pointedly, and stepped into the black abyss. Down, down, down she was falling, plummeting and spinning – then, a thump as she landed, hard, on her stomach, and then sliding madly through what seemed to be the very earth's core… as quickly as it had started, her ride of hell was over, and she was spat out into the Chamber of Secrets.

She skidded across fish bones, cutting tiny wounds on her arms and legs; then, she noticed cold. It was _extremely _cold, and damp with it too. Ginny trudged a few steps forwards, and looked up, in suspense for Myrtle's clumsy tunnel journey. A moment passed… two minutes… then a great clanking of pipes, and a screaming grey mass of uniform and hair shot out of the end, landing ungraciously on her bottom.

"Have fun?" Ginny asked teasingly.

Myrtle huffed as she got to her feet, too sulky to let Ginny help her up. "Where to now?" she said petulantly.

Ginny bit her lip – she wasn't actually sure. "I think it's this way," she guessed blindly, crunching through the chamber towards the only opening she saw. It had to be down there, right? Not altogether confident in herself, she moved towards it, Myrtle following silently. What seemed like hours walking through a narrow, pitch-black walkway lit only by an eerie glow of green could only really be minutes, Ginny mused, and she was considering a charm to see how far ahead the entrance was when the end of the passage came faintly into sight.

"Bingo," said Myrtle, apparently no longer grouchy.

It was a long, dark chamber that echoed even just Moaning Myrtle's two syllables, bouncing off every hard surface. Pools of water glimmering either side of the walkway, dark and sinister – Ginny did not want to find out how deep they were. Marble snakes curled around the outside, and between each snake were more little passageways, forming a labyrinth of darkness underneath even the Hogwarts dungeons. At the very end was a wide platform where Ginny could quite clearly waking up in a puddle of ink and blood, weak, tired, and with the boy of her dreams gasping at her as he neared death…

Ginny shuddered; in the center, spread out, and disappearing down into the water, was a huge, decaying Basilisk. "Gross," she said flatly, grimacing. It smelled terrible, and she pinched her nose tightly before stepping closer.

"You're not _seriously_ going to touch that, are you?" Myrtle said, aghast.

"I have to," said Ginny in nasal tones, because of her pinched nose. She stepped closer… close… feeling as though she might be sick as she stood beside the giant rotting snake, she buried her fingernails underneath a scale and pulled it loose. As it was decomposing, it came off fairly easily. Ginny took three, stuffing them in her trousers pockets, before hurrying away, sucking in as much odourless air as she could.

Myrtle gave a cough that sounded oddly like, "_drama queen_."

Ginny frowned at her friend, but beckoned to her, and the two girls returned up the narrow chamber. It was dark, and due to the fact that Myrtle made no noise, all that Ginny could hear was the quiet squelch of her own quiet footsteps. She was painfully aware of what had happened here six years ago, and she was frightened.

Ginny's foot slid backwards suddenly, and she fell with a crash to the floor. It appeared that Myrtle was jumpier than Ginny, for the fifteen-year-old ghost shrieked, pulled at her wand, yelped, "_Confringo!_" and sent balls of yellow light flying throughout the chamber in all directions.

"MYRTLE!" Ginny yelled. "Don't _do _that, what on earth is your problem?" she got awkwardly to her feet, wincing; she had grazed her elbows and hands badly. Then she frowned as the slate beneath her feet trembled. "Myrtle, what did you do?"

Both girls looked up fearfully at the same time. Where Myrtle's spell had hit, crumbling holes were burning in the ceiling, the wall, and – Ginny's gaze fell on a particular crumbling spot, and her hazel eyes widened in distress – the pillars supporting the roof of the chamber, and all that was above. "Oh," said Ginny in a very small voice as the roof began to shake. "Well. That's… oh. _Oh_. _**Shit**_, run, Myrtle!" she screamed.

Myrtle merely looked confused; she was dead, so what was the problem? Then she remembered Ginny's tiny problem about not being dead, and not _wanting _to be dead. Mumbling something about tact, and not being so insensitive about death in front of her, Myrtle swooped along after Ginny, together in a frantic race to escape.

Rocks. Slate, onyx, obsidian – it all fell in a crazy waterfall of stone, pummelling the ground and chewing up the Chamber of Secrets like a starving beast. A deafening roar filled Ginny's ears, and all that was in her head was the screaming, _get out get out get out_, and the pounding of her footsteps, rapid and almost in sync with her fleeting heart.

Ginny sprinted, faster than she could ever recall running before, the amulet around her throat bouncing painfully on her collarbone with every pace, striking her skin and inflicting small bruises from its heavy swinging. Why – _why _– was the Chamber of Secrets so long? The tunnel mouth was in sight, but the rockfall was gaining…

"Go, Myrtle!" Ginny screeched; she was stumbling, tripping over her own feet, flailing her arms frantically, staggering into the passageway, rocks falling, she was going to be crushed, she was tripping again, staring into the black abyss as boulders dropped down towards her – her last movement, fingers flying up towards the amulet and curling tight around it –

THUD.

Heavy sounds, like how Ginny imagined it would sound for monstrous hailstones to strike an over-sized umbrella. The stones were hitting something, about a metre above Ginny's head, and then rolling away. It was as if she was in a giant, transparent dome through which the boulders could not hurt her. Rasping for breath, and barely believing that she was still alive, Ginny turned on her heel and fled through the tunnel. As she left, her protective bubble moved with her, and the rocks crashed down behind her.

"What the -?" Myrtle spluttered.

"No idea," bellowed Ginny, "_go_!"

Myrtle did not complain as she was absorbed into Ginny's ward, and they continued quickly towards the long tunnel. Glancing over her shoulder, Ginny drew her wand and pointed it up, up the tunnel back to Myrtle's bathroom. "Hold on," she yelled; Myrtle grabbed her wrist tight; "_Circeruqius_!"

There was a great sucking sound, like every plug in the world being pulled – Ginny and Myrtle shot upwards. It was how Ginny imagined it would feel to be a champagne cork. Flying up, like some bizarre, celestial bird, and then the Chamber of Secrets coughed them out into a disused girls' toilets.

"_Whoa_!" exclaimed Draco, jerking back at the sight of them. "Hello to you, too. Did you get the scales?"

Ginny merely moaned, dishevelled and bedraggled and _wet_, on the floor. Myrtle sat up, unaffected, and dusted herself off, humming a love song to herself. "Good to see you're so cheerful," Ginny complained, dragging herself to her feet, rubbing her back. She pulled the scales out of her pocket and threw them to Draco, not bothering to tell him what had happened in the Chamber. She had more important things on her mind – like where her 'protective dome' had come from, and how she had summoned it.

**A/N:** This is a normal-sized chapter. Hope it's better. Please review.


	30. She Goes Down

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Early February. I discovered today that posting fights is almost as much fun as posting fluff. Ah well. Ginny and the Bimbo have a fight. Draco lets out his true colours with Whitney Houston. Sorry if the song lyrics look a little weird – I had to type it phonetically. This is another funny chapter (or at least I think so).Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Thirty: Bitch Goes Down**_

_**DRACO**_

Draco's life became entirely occupied with preparing the potion. He had no time left; he roughly cobbled his homework together in the mornings instead of having breakfast, and went to Myrtle's bathroom in between every class, no matter how short the break was. It was tiring, and bags were appearing under Draco's ice-blue eyes as his chances to sleep grew shorter and shorter – he had fallen asleep while tending to the potion, and had accidentally set the sleeve of his robes on fire.

However, Draco didn't mind. On Valentine's Day he could have the best sleep of his life, because the potion would be finished. And all of this weariness and ache was worth it to simply have the chance to go on a date with Ginny.

Sure, it wasn't a _date_-date; he had clarified this himself after he asked her. But the thoughts of spending an evening alone with her on the most romantic day of the year still sent giddy butterflies whirling through his stomach. Draco smiled tiredly to himself, and stirred the potion counter-clockwise twice, sprinkling powdered dragon-claw in a circle into the frothing acid-green liquid. "Coffee," he mumbled, and grabbed his mug beside where he was kneeling. Draco downed half of it, and, wincing at its heat, felt its enlightening effect immediately.

Unconsiously, Draco began to hum as he crushed beetles into a fine paste. "Doo de doo… lala… Ia… and I-I-I will always love you-OOOH," he said softly. It was a Muggle song by someone with a silly name… Samantha Dallas? Harriet Orlando? Whitney Houston, that was it. Taken over by a crazy urge that probably came from the coffee, he tossed his spoon aside, and, flinging his arms wide open dramatically, screeched, "AND IIIIIII… WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU-_OOOOOOOOOU_!"

He stood, dodging around the cauldron. He didn't know the words, so … _why not make my own words_? Knowing the tune, he started huskily, "I was alone, I was terrified… but I found you by mah side… I was waiting on my own… _todaaaaaaaaay_ it'll all change," he started an air-guitar, head-banging wildly as the song changed to a mixture of rock and heavy metal, "dunnaaaaaww…dundundunnaaawwww," he made guitar noises, before returning to the verse, "I was sad, I could not stand, my life – anymooore… but then _she _comes, and my _life_ runs, down the ro-oooadd…" they were cheesy lyrics, but he was making them up on the spot, and he couldn't think of anything better at such short notice, "and IIIIeeIIIIeeeIIII will always love you-OOOH-ooohooh!" he yelled again.

Draco spun, punching one hand into the air and curling the other into an imaginary microphone. "But that girl, comes to me," he began the verse again, and losing his senses to his hyperness, leapt out of the bathroom door into the corridor for the word to see, "and her long hair and her bright eyes, are all that I can see. I'm dancing in the dark, and her love is all around me – I only wish for the chance, to tell her… that IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU-OOOOOOHHH!"

Someone broke into loud laughter and applause. "Woooo," cheered a female voice, "you go, boy!"

Draco stopped dead, realizing what he was doing – singing an extremely high-pitched song, dancing in the corridor, in front of a crowd that was pissing themselves laughing. Every red blood cell in his body flew to his face and as he saw himself reflected in the polished marble floor, his face might as well be on fire.

The girl who had spoken was Sanchia; the crowd mainly consisted of her giggly friends. She was laughing and cheering, but she was eyeing him very strangely. When Draco looked at her, her face lit up, and she stepped towards him. "Don't worry," she coaxed, "I won't tell a soul. Plus, you sing _well_." Draco was not naïve enough to miss the I'm-lying wink that she tossed to the nearest of her little girlfriends.

"Do I, really?" Draco asked. He tried to make his voice sarcastic, dull and uninterested – something that he was usually very good at – but the coffee had taken over his senses and he sounded childishly eager instead.

Sanchia laughed harder as Draco cringed inwardly. "Oh dear," she giggled, "You seem to be having a _fascinating _day," she peered up at Draco through her thick eyelashes, "why don't we go for a walk?" she suggested.

_NO! I __**don't **__want to! _Draco tried to scream, but his mouth instead came out with, "Yeah, sure."

_Great. My trusty voice, always there for me in times of trouble._

_Not._

Sanchia pushed her arm through Draco's elbow and yanked him down the corridor, giving a sneaky glance to her friends. "So," she prompted, "I take it you're pretty confident, then."

"Er, no," Draco corrected. "I… I had some coffee," he reluctantly admitted.

Sanchia giggled, showing neat, even teeth. She flicked back her copper hair and looked up into Draco's face. "You're _so_ funny," she said in a low voice.

"Um. Thanks." Draco was confused. He was being serious about the coffee, but her response didn't seem to fit. Why had she laughed??

Draco was extremely uncomfortable – he could not get the words, "_Will you look at that __**butt**__"_ out of his head. He coughed awkwardly, and then suddenly Sanchia spun, grabbing his forearm.

"Are you alright?" she demanded, concern filling her pale eyes.

Draco screwed up his eyes. She was holding his arm very tight; she was also holding the Dark Mark. "I'm fine," he said, but his voice was strained, and he couldn't force a reassuring smile onto his face.

"No, you're not," Sanchia sobbed, tears filling her eyes.

Draco was startled. "No – no, Sanchia – Sanchia – please, don't cry," he said, frightened. He didn't know how to help crying girls. They were a vast, mind-boggling mystery to him, and he was quite sure that he would only make her feel worse.

"How can I stop crying when you're _hurt_," Sanchia simpered, and as she stared up into his eyes, Draco suddenly became very, _very _aware of their close proximity. He could count the tiny, round freckles on her slightly up-turned nose, and could see each of her eyelashes, separated neatly and combed with black mascara.

"Er," said Draco, feeling as though he was rooted to the spot. _Leave_... his brain squirted out only one thought, as though he was willing Sanchia to go away. _Leave…_ However, Sanchia took his 'er' and translated it into 'closer, please', and then they were nose-grazing.

_Bloody hell. I am __**nose-grazing**__. With __**Sanchia**__. WHAT HAS THE WORLD COME TO???_

Draco forced himself to say, "What are you doing?" but it didn't come out mean enough – _she was in his personal bubble, she was in his personal bubble_.

Lips.

On.

His.

_ARGH! _Draco's brain began screaming like a girl. _ARGH! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF IT'S ALL LIPSTICKY AND EEWWW!!_ He gagged slightly, and was severely worried that he was about to vomit. Into _Sanchia's_ mouth.

EW.

Draco was standing in the middle of a hallway, totally stiff as every inch of his body screeched _GET IT OFF_, but Sanchia was misinterpreting messages and she kissed harder, smashing her mouth into Draco's…

_Hell, she's actually not a bad kisser_, Draco found himself thinking, and before he could have the good part of his brain scream at the bad part of his brain, the bad part cackled, "Bwahaha," and took over. Draco slid his hands onto Sanchia's waist, and began kissing her back, she tasted of strawberries and shiny lipgloss and a something actually rather disgusting… _oh well, keep kissing_, said his brain stubbornly, and there was a faint little voice saying, _Nooooooooo_!

"Draco?!"

Draco knew that voice.

Uh-oh.

He pulled his head back sharply and looked sideways – into Ginevra Weasley's blazing face. _Why is she so mad-looking_, Draco wondered, and then his brain zapped back into action. He leapt away from Sanchia, repulsion screwing up his face before he could stop and try to be more sensitive to the Spanish girl's feelings.

"What's wrong, Drakie?" Sanchia cooed.

Draco stared at her in horror. So did Ginny. "_Drakie_?" they both echoed incredulously at the same time. Sanchia ignored Draco's repugnance and turned on Ginny.

"What's wrong, Weasley? Have you got a problem with me dating Drakie?" Sanchia demanded (Draco suddenly felt as though his lungs had been punctured – he was dying, he was dying, kill me now, kill me now – and as though he might pass out). "Oh, I know," she said flatly, "you're _jealous_." (Draco was alive again _immediately_. Ginny liked him? She was jealous? But that would mean she liked him as more than a friend – right?)

Ginny gave a humourless laugh. "Are you insinuating that I'm in love with Draco?" she said flatly. The word 'insinuating' had too many syllalbles, and Sanchia was clearly confused. "Because," Ginny continued, "you would have to be absolutely _mad_ to think that." (Draco's lungs were punctured again, and lay in pieces somewhere around his kidneys.)

Sanchia's lips thinned. "Would I really?" she demanded. "'Cause listen to me, stupid – Draco's mine. So you can just _back off_, got that?" she said fiercely, stunning Draco.

Ginny, however, wasn't intimidated. "Draco's not _yours_. He's no-one's. He isn't anyone's _private property_," she snapped.

"Hello? Erm, I am _right here_, you know," Draco put in. They were talking as though he was in a different room.

"Shut it, Draco," Ginny said without looking at him, "I'm busy having a bitch fight."

Draco burst out laughing, but saw from both girls' faces that the situation was anything but funny, and immediately took on an expression that would be suitable at a funeral.

"Are you saying I'm a bitch?" gasped Sanchia furiously.

"No, actually I wasn't – but that pretty sums up my argument, now that I think of it," said Ginny cattily.

"I'm a bitch? _I'm _a bitch?! At least I don't try and steal people's boyfriends!" snarled Sanchia, shocking Draco into silence. She had always been so pleasant and quiet around him.

"And when have I ever stolen someone's boyfriend?" Ginny said. "Sanchia, that's _your _job."

Reddening with anger, Sanchia stepped closer to Ginny. "Shut your mouth _right _now!" she yelled. "You're trying to steal Draco from me but you can't freakin' have him!"

"_I don't want him_!" Ginny bellowed – Draco was being ripped into a thousand pieces... "Stop being so unreasonable!"

"I'M NOT UNREASONABLE! You are!" Steadily the girl's voices were getting louder and louder as each fought to out-yell each other.

"God, Sanchia, you're _blind_!"

"_What is that supposed to mean_??"

"IT MEANS YOU'RE STUPID!"

"I'M NOT STUPID! YOU ARE!"

"I'M NOT THE STUPID ONE! I'M NOT ACCUSING SOMEONE OF BEING IN LOVE WITH THEIR BEST FRIEND!"

"_WELL YOU ARE_!"

"_I'M. NOT!"_

"_BITCH!!" _A deafening _slap_ echoed through the corridor, causing utter silence as everyone stared in horror at the two girls.

Ginny gave a low, rumbling growl that caused Draco to squeak in fright. Before he could stop her, she jumped forwards, hands curled into claws. She folded her fingers around Sanchia's arms and forced the younger girl into the wall, slamming the Spaniard's back into the stone. "Bear in mind," Ginny snarled, "that I have taken on a hell of a lot more than you have, Sanchia Cortez. I've been possessed. I've been in wars. I've nearly been crushed. I've been attacked. I've had people try to _kill_ me. I am older, wiser, smarter, and a _lot_ stronger than you are! If you ever want to pick a fight, I advise to pick one that you'll come out of _alive_!!!"

Sanchia shrieked, and then the corridor was a blaze of shouts and hexes flying – Sanchia was trying to curse Ginny away, whereas Ginny was just flying at Sanchia the Muggle way. Ginny dodged a beam of purple light and threw herself onto Sanchia's back; legs around her waist, arms around her neck, and hands pulling her hair.

"AAAAH!" Sanchia yelped, staggering around trying to get the crazed redhead off. She wheeled around, and Ginny, dizzy, fell to the floor in a heap. The younger girl stumbled to the wall, gasping for breath. "Okay, okay!" she shouted. "You're not in love with Draco!"

Ginny, chest heaving and red hair sticking up in all directions like a madwoman, stood as tall as she could, glaring levelly at Sanchia (they were the same height, even though Sanchia was a year younger). Draco exhaled his relief, but Sanchia couldn't stop there. Ohh no. It wasn't that easy for her.

"Who _would _be in love with him? He's ugly, stupid, and makes a total prat of himself! He can't sing, you all saw that – he can't do _anything_!" Sanchia spat. "All he's good for is working for the Dark Lord like the lowly bastard that he is, worth only enough to -"

Draco ran at her, prepared to finally join the fight, but he never got there. Sanchia didn't get a word out. Ginny silently flew forwards, one hand clenched.

Hand, meet face.

Repeat as needed.

_Bam_.

Sanchia threw up her hands, crying out once, and then crumpled to the floor, leaving a distraught, astonished Draco, a glaring Ginny, blowing on her smarting knuckles, and a whooping crowd, in her wake.

"Bitch goes down," said Ginny conversationally, shaking her hand to try and get the pain away. "Come on, Draco."

Draco stared. Stunned. Shocked. Flabbergasted. "Wow," he finally gasped out, after skidding to a halt in his run.

"All in a day's work," said Ginny grumpily. "Now let's _go_."

Draco was too shocked to move. _Shame that she had to be knocked out. She was a pretty good kisser_. Such were Draco's thoughts – unfortunately, he was stunned. When he was stunned, his brain malfunctioned. He spoke his thoughts.

Ginny looked at him with those beautiful hazel eyes. They were swirling with a million things that Draco couldn't read and couldn't begin to understand. "Fine," she said in a small, shaky voice that Draco could barely hear. Without saying anything more, she walked away.

"Whoa," a Hufflepuff boy in fourth year came up to Draco. "That was some good punch – what the hell? Weasley's crying. She, like, _never_ cries. What did you do?"

Draco bit his lip, anxious and upset that he had hurt Ginny. "I don't know," he whispered. "I really have no idea."

**A/N:** Oooh, jealousy… Valentine's Day coming up! Should be nice and fluffy! XD Please review.


	31. My Guardian Angel

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Valentine's Day!! It's nice and fluffy.. but it's a bit emotional at the end. It's a bit AU, and I'M SORRY! It's the longest chapter I've ever had, but I didn't want to split it into two chapters. The song mentioned in this is 'Your Guardian Angel' by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. It sort of inspired the end of the chapter. Anywho. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Thirty-One: My Guardian Angel**_

_**GINNY**_

Ginny had been very stiff and blunt with Draco for the rest of the three days before Valentine's Day. He had owled the potion to her in a plain, clear flask, which she Transfigured into a pretty heart-shaped one. Then she drew red spots on her face, arms and legs, as though she was sick, and used a spell to make her voice hoarse and her forehead warm. Then, she climbed into bed and pretended to sleep.

It was very boring, and Ginny feared that while she waited Draco might go without her, but eventually Hermione, Ron and Harry burst in.

"Ginny, where were you at breakfast?" Ron asked.

Ginny rolled over, groaning and rubbing her eyes as if she had only just woken up. "What?" she croaked weakly.

"Oh my!" Hermione cried, and hurried to Ginny's bedside. "You're sick," she said concernedly, feeling her temperature, "I don't think that you're even well enough to go to Hogsmeade."

"Rubbish," said Ginny, "I'll go and get some medicine from Madam Pomfrey and then we can go." She started getting out of bed, revealing her bright red polka-dotted skin.

"Ginny! You're…" Harry trailed off, unsure what to say to describe the rather gross spots that covered his girlfriend's skin, "…spotty."

Ginny grimaced. "Madam P can fix that too," she said with a shrug, but Hermione forced the redhead back into bed.

"Lie down!" said Hermione fiercely. "You're sick, and you're not coming… I'm sorry. I'll bring you some butterbeer and some Honeydukes chocolate when you feel better, 'kay?" she said, her tone softening.

"No," Ginny moaned, but she blinked blearily and settled down onto her pillow. "Harry… Ha-… the – the top drawer… my bedside table… merry- merry Valen…" she keeled over and closed her eyes lightly, feinting slumber.

Harry frowned, but crossed to the bedside table and pulled the first drawer open. Sitting inside was the potion and an envelope addressed to Harry.

_Harry,_

_Happy Valentine's Day! It's the Potion of Eternal Love. Use it however you want – just don't waste it, coz it took me eight days to make. Sorry that I can't go to Hogsmeade. I love you!_

_Love, Ginny xxx_

Harry read it aloud; a look of pleasure crossed his face, while Ron rolled his eyes at the sappy letter. Hermione, however, snatched the parchment, and, through her eyelashes, Ginny could see the older girl reading and re-reading it.

Hermione frowned, but then her chocolate-coloured eyes widened. "How… how sweet," she said to Ron and Harry. "Ron. Harry. Let's go." Ginny was unnerved by Hermione's behaviour, but she couldn't do anything, because she was supposedly sleeping.

Harry bent and kissed Ginny's forehead gently, smoothing stray red hairs from her face, and then left with Ron. Hermione stayed behind though, and waited until the boys had left before moving to Ginny's side and sitting heavily on the bed, springs squeaking.

"You're going into Hogsmeade with Malfoy, aren't you?" said Hermione, cutting rather quickly to the point. Ginny couldn't hide it – her mouth fell open and she stared up at Ginny. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please. Ginny, you wrote _sorry I can't go to Hogsmeade_ when you couldn't possibly now that you would be sick when you wrote the letter beforehand, your 'spots' are red felt-tip pen, your voice and temperature can easily be achieved by the simplest of spells, and I know that you've been spending extra time with Malfoy. Put two and two together."

Ginny sat up. "Well… I don't really know what to say…" she grumbled.

"I do. For now, let's just say…_Scourgify_, _episkey_ and _rinate_," Hermione said, waving her wand. Ginny was left looking dishevelled, but perfectly healthy. "I take it that you don't want to come with us. I personally can't blame. I hate being a gooseberry. When it was you and Harry I always felt really… alone."

"Was?" Ginny repeated dumbly, looking at someone who had once been her best friend.

Hermione sighed. "Ginny, I know that you're not stupid – you're anything but. I can't pretend that you're still interested in Harry… or that he's still interested in you," she finished softly.

It hurt. Ginny's heart stung. Hermione was completely right, but it made her heart ache. _How dare you! _Ginny's head screamed. _You can't say these things to me! You kissed him!_

Hermione sighed again. "I'm also not going to pretend that… that I didn't kiss him," she added hastily, "once." She raked a hand roughly through her curly hair, "I don't know what came over me. I just… kissed him. I suppose with me it's always been this battle between Ron and Harry. When you started dating Harry, I pushed myself towards Ron. But – you weren't interested in him, and I needed the final test. I kissed him. And… I _really_ kissed him," she added with a dry chuckle, "but there was nothing there. No spark."

Ginny looked up at Hermione. Waiting for what she knew was coming.

"Whereas… with your brother," Hermione said quietly, "there's just this – crackle! I'm all hot and flushed when he hugs me… I know that Harry wasn't for me. And, I'm sorry to say this, Ginny, but he's not for you either."

"Harry belongs to Luna," said Ginny dully.

Hermione blinked at her friend's indifference. She swallowed her surprise, and then voiced something that had been gnawing at her for a while. "Ginny," she asked, very quietly, and looking over her shoulder to check that neither Harry nor Ron nor anyone else was listening, "do – do you… like Draco?"

Ginny looked at her hands. Without looking up, she mumbled, "He has replaced you."

Hermione didn't understand. "Wait – what?"

Ginny still didn't meet the Muggle-born girl's gaze. "Draco… he's my best friend," she said softly. "But I got angry at him. And I'm nervous for today."

Hermione nodded, but there was something unreadable glinting in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, having obviously reconsidered her words. "Would you like help getting ready? I can tell Ron and Harry to head off without me," she offered.

Only now did the sixteen-year-old look up. "No thank you," she said, smiling genuinely, "and… I'm sorry that I judged you about the whole… kiss… thing."

Hermione shrugged. "It didn't mean anything, anyway. Harry and I went our separate ways. So did you," she said. "Look, I have to go. I'll see you later, right?" She reached out and hugged Ginny tight, and then scurried out of the door with a wave.

Ginny waited until the door closed again, and then swung her legs out of the bed. She hurried into the bathroom, took the quickest shower of all showers, and then ran out again in a towel to scan through her clothes.

Jeans and a T-shirt. Too casual. Ginny tore them off and rummaged through her things again.

Long skirt and long shirt. Too … bleurgh.

Mini-skirt and tank-top. Too revealing – she'd freeze to death anyway, wearing _that_ in February.

Her Yule Ball dress. Too fancy.

Fifteen minutes later. A towering heap of clothes and possible accessories had piled up on Ginny's bed. She finished the last touches to her make-up, and then looked properly at herself in the mirror. She wore a knee-length dark-pink skirt, and a light-pink long-sleeved T-shirt, with a white short-sleeved jacket over that clung tight to her T-shirt, and the bottom of it only reached the lower part of her ribcage. The amulet hung around her throat, and a glittering black hoop was strung around her wrists; from her ears dangled two love-hearts for the occasion. She wore pink Converse All-Stars trainers (she didn't care if they spoiled the feminine effect that she was going for today) and she had decided against tights.

Her hair was long, loose, and flowing, perfectly straight down her back, before curling slightly at the ends. A few of the longer hairs were pulled back from her face and clipped back with a black heart, but her side-fringe was left loose. Hazel stood out brightly in the midst of a forest of black painted eyelashes, and her eyes were rimmed with white to open them up and brighten her eyes, though it was impossible to see. A touch of lip-gloss here, a zit concealed there… _voila_.

Ginny tucked her wand into her pocket, checked her appearance one last time, and, feeling as though the butterflies in her stomach were dancing the salsa, headed from the girls' dorm, holding the necklace so that no-one would see 'sick' Ginny out of bed.

Invisible, she ran down the tower stairs, rubber-soled shoes slapping the stone slabs hard with every hurried pace. _I'm late, I'm late, I'm __**late**_! Ginny sprinted, and she skidded to a halt, leaving rubber marks on the floor. "Scourgify," she hissed at them, brandishing her invisible wand, and then thundered down the steps.

There he was. Draco's back was turned to the urge, and while the sensible part of Ginny was saying, 'now, now, Ginny, don't do anything daft, you're in a skirt', the rash part of her was screaming all sorts of fun things – she grabbed her necklace, coming into view, sprinted down the stairs, and, with a squeal of joy, threw herself onto Draco's back, curling her arms and legs around him.

He yelled out, tumbling forewards, and they landed in a heap on the ground, Ginny giggling hysterically, eyes glittering happily, and Draco complaining. "Ouch," he moaned, "that hurt. I presume that's Ginny who just tackled me to the floor?"

"Yup!" Ginny climbed off him and stood, straightening out her skirt and waiting for Draco to look him so that she could acknowledge him, and, more importantly, so that he could acknowledge her. _Why is it more important_, the sensible part of her asked curiously. _Shut up_, said the other half.

He finally stood and looked at her; something strange crossed his face, as if he was extremely pained but extremely happy, all at the same time. He wore a navy-blue hoodie, at the top of which a small triangle of pale-blue cloth from his T-shirt underneath could be seen. He had also donned jeans and black trainers. There was something more, though. Draco's hair was hanging differently, making his face look softer and less like he was someone who had been forced to grow up far too quickly (which, in some terms, he had).

"Have you cut your hair?" Ginny ventured.

Draco's cheeks coloured slightly. "Yeah – why, is it bad? I cut it especially for today, I _knew _it was too short, just give me a minute, and I'll fix it -"

"No!" Ginny cut through her friend's babbling, grabbing his arm when he drew his wand to charm his hair. "I mean… it looks nice." She felt her face burn, but she stared ahead as if she didn't care that she was blushing like crazy. "Please – leave it."

"Er," Draco said uncertainly. "Okay." He lowered his wand, stuffed it back in his pocket, and looked towards the Entrance Hall doors. "Shall we go?"

Ginny nodded earnestly, and she skipped away, forcing Draco to jog after her faster than he would have liked. "Come on," she called from the door, and, without waiting for Draco, hurried on towards the waiting carriages. A Threstral whinnied softly, tossing its taut-fleshed head as she approached, and Ginny stroked its leathery wings and surprisingly soft nose until Draco caught up. "That took you long enough," she teased, and hopped up into the carriage, sliding along the seats.

Draco got in, and he stood awkwardly for a while – Ginny could tell that his mind and heart were fighting a battle of where to sit – before thudding down opposite her. She looked out of the window, trying to gaze anymore _except _for at the handsome Slytherin opposite her, and Ginny knew that it showed. "Um," said a male voice, breaking the silence, and the redhead glanced across at Draco.

The instant that Ginny's eyes rested on him, Draco turned slightly pink. "Um," he tried again, "you look… really nice." It was obvious how embarrassing it was for Draco, but all the same, Ginny's face caught fire and blazed in the little carriage so that she was almost terrified that she would start _glowing_.

"No, I don't… I shouldn't have worn pink," she said thoughtfully, feeling embarrassed, "it clashes with my hair."

Draco smirked. "Everything clashes with your hair," he said fondly. He then realized that it didn't sound very nice of him, and he added softly, "but I like it."

"Thanks," said Ginny, forcing her voice out confidently to hide her giddy nervousness, "you look hot."

Draco's jaw slacked open, and he stared at her with wide eyes.

Ginny gasped as she realized what she had said, and flushed pure, solid crimson that put even her hair to shame. "I mean – I mean – what I meant was – no – but – your _hair_ – I like your – your hair," she stuttered out, trying to hide behind hair.

Draco nodded, and, while the previous silence had been embarrassing but endurable, the one that followed made Ginny stare at her shoes, feeling a blush creep across her entire body until she felt like that Muggle fairy-tale reindeer, Rugalf or Rudolph or whatever his stupid name was.

After what seemed like hours, the carriage creaked to a halt at Hogsmeade, and Draco seemed far too eager to leap out of the small vehicle. Ginny slid across the seats, and when she reached the door, she was pleasantly astonished to see Draco, half-bowed, with a hand extended to help her down from the high step. "Thank you," said Ginny, her eyes shining, and she delicately bounded from the stair.

"Erm… to the Three Broomsticks?" she then asked, anxious. Ron, Harry, Hermione and Luna would probably be there, and she didn't want to bump into them.

"I actually had somewhere else in mind," said Draco, "I hope that's okay. I just thought that, you know, it might be a bit awkward with everyone else there. Slytherin… Gryffindor… Valentine's Day… might not go down so well."

Ginny let out a relieved breath. "Thank you so much, Draco," she said, "I was really worried about that. But… where else is there?"

Draco smirked, putting a finger to his lips as a gesture of _not gonna tell you_ and then lead her through Hogsmeade. Past Zonko's… past Honeydukes… down a little side-alley… and in the side-alley, crammed in there somehow, was a pretty little Italian restaurant. "Ciao," said Draco with a cheesy accent, and he held the wood-and-glass door open for her.

Ginny smiled, blushing slightly, and she weaved past him, through the open door, and then advanced with him towards the reception. "Hello," she said brightly to a small, slightly dumpy lady with black corkscrew-ringlets for hair. "Table for two, please."

The lady smiled. "For you and your beau?" she asked kindly, waving her wand and setting up a table nearby.

Ginny's face fired up again. "Erm – no," she said quickly, and she felt her heart cringe. _She thought Draco was my __**boyfriend**__, oh I can never live this down_! She glanced sideways at him. "He's not my – I mean, I'm not…" she trailed off. There was something aching deep inside her, that she had never felt before. It somehow reminded her of seeing Cho with Harry in the Room of Requirements. A faint smile graced her lips; all of that jealousy and childish crushes seemed so long ago, before the war started and everything had become more difficult.

Draco moved to the table and sat down heavily, something unreadable on his face. Ginny followed and sat down opposite them. Between the two students was a short expanse of red tablecloth, two expensive-looking plates and a glowing candle that illuminated Draco's pale features so that he seemed to glow too.

"Draco," Ginny said suddenly, "I just… thank you. For the potion, I mean. I don't think anyone else would have done that for me."

A look of surprise appeared in Draco's eyes that he quickly hid, and said casually, "Anyone would have done that for you, really. It was nothing. Surely… surely," Draco paused, and then forced the words out, "_Harry_ would have." It had clearly taken him a lot of effort to say 'Harry' and not 'Potter' or 'the Brat Who Lived' as his usual mark of disdain.

Ginny lowered her gaze. "No," she said quietly, "I think that he, of all people, would definitely not have done that for me." Hermione's words were still stinging in an open wound, but for some reason, now that she was talking to Draco, the wound seemed to be healing faster than if she had charmed it closed.

She dared to look up at him through her eyelashes, so that it would seem that she was still looking downwards. Draco was watching her intently still, and Ginny rummaged in her heart for the courage to look up, but under that ice-blue gaze, she couldn't. Her slender fingers reached up for her amulet – not to turn invisible, but she knew that if anything held her emotions in balance, it was that triangle of black onyx.

Ginny's hand closed around the piece of rock, and she focused silently on staying in clear view. She did not disappear, and instead she closed her eyes, held the pendant for a moment, and then lifted her chin to stare back at Draco. At her eyes returning to his, he bit his lip, and then said, "Erm, and, also, thank you. For the whole… Sanchia thing."

She frowned. "What do you mean?" Ginny asked. "I caused a fight and stopped her from kissing you… I thought that was a bad thing." She lowered her hand from the amulet, confused.

Draco shook his head slightly. "It's only a bad thing if the person on the receiving end _wanted_ to be kissed," he said simply.

Ginny stared at him, hardly daring to breath. Did that mean that Draco didn't want to kiss Sanchia? _He doesn't like Sanchia… he doesn't like Sanchia…_ her mind and her feelings cartwheeled, making her feel as though she might be sick; she quickly grasped the nearby goblet of pure water and gulped it down, before saying evenly, "Then, I suppose that you're welcome."

Draco's lips quirked upwards at the ends into the smallest of smiles – it made Ginny feel like it was directed right into her heart and that she was the most important person in the world. She blushed profusely and flapped up her menu in front of her face to hide her burning cheeks, becoming extremely interested in the food choices.

"What would you like to eat?" asked the small Italian woman from the reception, suddenly appearing beside Ginny's chair.

Ginny looked up. "Um… I think I'll try the spaghetti speciality, thank you," she said, and then looked over at Draco.

"Seafood platter, please," he said, surprisingly polite. Ginny knew that Draco wasn't your average Slytherin, but the barriers of sarcastic unpleasanttness that he put up for everyone else still existed, and to see him drop them so easily was unnerving.

The woman nodded with a smile, and bustled away, humming to the soft music that flowed through the small restaurant. Ginny puffed out her breath, tilting her head from side to side to the music.

_When you sleep_

_Your smile_

_Tears roll down my face_

"So…" she said, searching for something to spark up a decent conversation, "I didn't know that you… liked seafood."

Draco grinned. "Neither did I," he said. He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say more, but then sat back in his chair, looking as though he was having some sort of internal struggle. Then, he stood, and said, "Come on. Let's dance."

_I can't replace_

_Now that I'm strong_

_I have figured out_

Ginny was taken-aback. "Um," she said, "I don't really know this song." She felt a blush creep up her neck. "I think… I think it's a Muggle song."

Draco shrugged. "So? I know it, and I'm less Muggle-y than you are," he pointed out. Ginny wasn't sure what he meant by 'Muggle-y', but she stood. Draco took her hand, sending a flurry of red blood cells into Ginny's creamy face. They walked together onto the dance floor. There were some other Hogwarts students – there was Pippa Tonks (technically a year too young to go to Hogsmeade, but she had probably bribed her mother) with a third year who Ginny recognized as Terry Boot's little brother, and two fourth year Ravenclaws that she did not know – but she ignored them.

_How this world turns colder_

_And facing my soul_

_And I know_

Ginny turned to Draco. She tilted her head to look up into his face, wishing fervently that she was taller. Draco extended his left hand; Ginny took it shyly, and stepped closer to her best friend, wondering why being in such close proximity to him made her head spin. She felt her breath hitch as he slid one hand into the small of her back, and timidly placed her free hand onto his thin shoulder.

_I'll find deep inside me_

_I can be the one_

Draco was gazing down at her, a slight reddening high on his pale cheekbones. Together they stepped slowly around the dance floor, in total silent, except for Draco's humming with the music. He stepped backwards, twirling her out – Ginny was spinning under his arm, her own arm stretched upwards to almost its full extent, her skirt flaring around her knees, and then her journey across the dance floor came to abrupt halt and Draco caught her, his head lightly clapping her back, and then they were dancing, closer than ever, their bodies flush of each other.

_I will never let you fall_

_I will stand up for you forever_

_I'll be there for you through it all_

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven_

Ginny's breath caught again as she found herself pressed against tall, slim Draco Malfoy's chest, but she discovered that she was totally unwilling to move. She tipped her head right back so that her red hair sparkled in the light as it fell down from her shoulders, to look up at him.

"Hello," he said softly down at her, a tiny smile on his lips. "Having fun?"

Ginny nodded silently, wanting to just enjoy the moment, her fingers interlaced with his, her face tilted up, his tilted down… she was struck by a sudden urge to stand on tiptoe and kiss him… she leaned forwards, her eyes fluttering closed –

Then she realized what she was doing.

She jumped backwards, her heart pounding violently and her cheeks the same colour as her hair. Draco was staring at her with the same wide-eyed expression that he had held when she had declared him 'hot'. Ginny stood, frozen, before turning swiftly and stalking back to the table. She dropped down heavily onto her chair and began eating her spaghetti hastily, which had arrived a few moments earlier.

Draco and Ginny ate in an awkward silence, and on the way back to the carriages, past midnight, when Pippa Tonks and the others had already left, they began to chat again, though albeit uncomfortably.

"Did you enjoy the night?" Draco asked conversationally as he held the carriage door open for Ginny.

"Yes, I did, and thank you for paying," she said gratefully as she sat down. "That was very gentlemanly of you."

"_Please_, don't call me a gentleman," groaned Draco. "That's what Sanchia always insisted I was, and look what happened to her." He grinned jokingly at Ginny, but her face had unexpectedly turned cold.

_Stupid bimbo. Snogging Draco in front of the whole school. In front of __**me**_! Ginny thought bitterly. _She should be expelled. And then sent to Azkaban. Stupid ditz._

The carriage pulled to a halt, and Ginny leapt out before Draco could open the door for her. Draco followed shortly, and they headed up to the castle as the Threstral trotted off into the darkness. They did not speak again; Ginny was still humiliated about trying to kiss him. As they stole through the doors, Draco asked nervously, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Ginny gave him an odd look.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I mean, accompany you… to Gryffindor tower," he said. Ginny bit her lip, but nodded.

As they dashed through the darkness quietly, so as not to be spotted by Filch, the grouchy caretaker, she pushed out something that had been bugging her for a while. "Draco," she whispered, "I never really thanked you."

Draco looked at her curiously, and opened his mouth to say something, but then both of them heard Filch's shuffling footsteps. "Hide!" he yelped in whispers, and began to run, beckoning for Ginny to follow.

"Who's there?" Filch growled, shining a lamp around.

Ginny fled after Draco. "Slow _down_!" she cried. Draco turned, his mouth agape at how loud she was being. Before he could say anything, she flew at him, at, glancing over her shoulder to see if Filch was coming so that her red hair fanned out behind her, hissed, "Don't speak", and both of her hands moved quickly – one hand grabbed the necklace, the other to Draco's hand.

Draco inhaled sharply as soon as Ginny grasped his wrist, but didn't speak, as she had told him not to. Then, they were both invisible, and they dashed away. Once they were safe, Draco gasped out, "How did you do that?"

"I'm not sure," Ginny said, "I think it's this necklace… I found it at the battlefields for the Goblin Wars."

Draco paled considerably, but didn't say anything about the amulet. _I think he knows something_, Ginny mused_, but he's not telling me_. Then Draco said, "What did you want to thank me about?" He pushed open the wooden door to the Gryffindor tower steps, and they rushed up the stairs.

Ginny blushed delicately. "Well," she said, "I just… I never really thanked you. For… for rescuing me." _Oh God, look at his face, I've made him all embarrassed now. Ack, why couldn't I just shut up?!?_

"You mean, because of the whole chimaera thing?" Draco asked as they neared the top of the staircase.

Ginny nodded, her red face deepening in colour. "I just mean… I was dying… and I was being chased by a blood-thirsty monster… Harry, always the hero, was tucked up in bed – but _you_," she hesitated, and then mumbled, "you saved my life."

Draco took the next few steps in a hush. Then, he said with a slight chuckle, "Just call me your guardian angel." The last of the steps… they stopped before the Fat Lady, and Ginny stretched a forefinger to the amulet. The two teenagers wavered into view in front of the slumbering painting.

"Okay," Ginny whispered, a small smile forming on her lips. As they stood together, the moonlight streaming through the Gothic window behind them, adorning their faces with a silver glow, she felt a churning in her stomach like nothing she'd ever sensed before. "Usually my parents insist that they're my guardian angels, but I think it's time that someone else took over. Thank you for a wonderful night."

Draco looked stiff and uncomfortable from the comment about Ginny's parents, and then she felt guilty as she remembered that Draco's mother and father were dead. She recalled something that Fred had once told her: "_if I were you, I'd be careful with Slytherins. They're not going to like you much anymore," Fred advised._ _"Why not?" Ginny had asked._ _Fred shrugged. "Well… they think that you killed the Malfoys."_ Ginny suddenly knew what was wrong with Draco, and how to fix it. "Draco," she called, before he left. He did not turn to look at her, but he stopped, indicating that he was listening to her. Ginny took a deep breath, battling her fears. "Draco – I … I didn't kill your parents."

Draco froze. She could see every muscle in his lean figure tense immediately. For a few seconds there was no reaction; then he twisted around and looked into her eyes. He didn't say anything, but his eyes were screaming his thoughts.

"I didn't do it," she said, feeling her voice crack at the emotion in the air. "It wasn't me… it – it was your aunt. Bellatrix Lestrange." Draco's eyes widened slightly, but still he did not speak. Ginny continued, feeling her heart break at having to be the one to tell him, "Lestrange tried to kill me. She cast the Killing Curse at me, but I ducked. She got angry… and she sent at spell at me that I didn't recognize. It was a sort of… exploding spell. I jumped out of the way, and the spell hit the brick wall. The wall fell… and killed your parents."

Draco still did not utter a word.

Ginny felt as though she wanted to die. "I suppose it was my fault," she whispered, mainly to herself. "If I had just let the spell hit me… you might not be an orphan."

Draco flinched at the word 'orphan'. It was the first time he had really reacted. He closed his eyes, and, though he brushed it away almost instantly, Ginny saw the hot, glistening tear that fell from his eyelashes.

"Draco…" she whispered. She wanted to cry – for him. "Please don't… if it's easier for you to handle… I can just say that I did it…" Then, astonishing Ginny beyond belief, Draco stumbled forwards into her arms and buried his face in her shoulder; she was surprised, but she held him tight. "If it makes you feel any better," she said gently into his ear, "my brother was killed that day, as well. Do you remember Percy – he was Head Boy in our third year."

Draco straightened up, looking ashamed, but not bothering to hide the teartracks on his pale cheeks. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "for thinking that you…" he trailed off, looking down at the ground, his newly-cut hair hanging into his blue eyes. He looked so sad; Ginny wanted to kiss his cheek, or, better still, his lips – but her own desires frightened her, though not this time into fleeing. "Be careful getting back."

Draco nodded, and Ginny knocked on the frame of the Fat Lady's canvas. "Billiwig wings," she said to a grunting, complaining Fat Lady, and slipped through.

Hermione was sitting, looking tired but happy, on the sofa; she looked up when she heard Ginny come in. "Hello, Gin, have a nice time?" she teased. "I kept your secret safe. Harry got you some flowers… he picked them off of the bouquet that he gave Luna," she grimaced. Then the Head Girl noticed her friend's face. "Ginny, what's wrong?"

Ginny was staring ahead at the dark window, her mouth slightly open as her brain worked out everything that she had been feeling lately. She transferred her gaze to Hermione, still shocked. "Mione," she said weakly, "I think… I think I like Draco."

**A/N:** Oooh, how fluffy. Yes, I decided to make Hermione and Ginny friends again. Ah well. I'm so sad! There won't be many chapters left… nearly finished! Please review.


	32. Unnoticed

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Late February. This isn't a very nice chapter, so if you're extremely squeamish, I recommend you skip it.

**WARNING: Dark chapter. If you don't like icky things like death… you suck… and I think you might like to skip this chapter.**

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Thirty-Two: Unnoticed**_

_**DRACO**_

"_Ginny…" Draco murmured into her ear, holding her tight to him. He never wanted to let her go. "Yes?" she asked softly, turning in his arms, so that her face and his were millimetres apart, her hazel eyes the most beautiful jewels he had ever seen. "I love you," he told her, and then he crushed her lips underneath his own, she was so beautiful_ –

"Draco?"

He blearily opened one eye. Victor Crabbe was staring at him suspiciously. "What?" Draco snapped groggily, sitting up angrily. "Is there something you have to say, or are you just waking me up for no reason?"

Crabbe frowned. "I was trying to wake you up – but then you started muttering in your sleep. It was freaking me out," he said.

"Why were you even trying to wake me?" Draco asked, shuffling down and reaching for his wand to swish the curtains closed around his bed.

Crabbe bit his lip nervously, and looked over his shoulder at Gregory Goyle, who looked as spooked as his friend did. "Draco," Goyle said solemnly, "the… the fire wants you."

Draco's eyes snapped open instantly. "What?" he said harshly. "Why? How do you know?" _Oh no, oh no_…

"It was saying your name," Goyle explained. "It was a little weird, so we tried to wake you up. That's when you started talking to yourself."

"What did I say?" Draco asked, almost fearfully, hoping desperately that he hadn't said anything about Ginny out loud.

Crabbe snickered, and Goyle, the nicer of the pair, elbowed his best friend in the ribs. "Erm," Goyle said, "I hope this doesn't upset you that we heard…"

"_What did I say_?"

"Um. 'I love you'. That's all that you said, again and again."

Draco groaned, and buried his face in his hands for a second with the humiliation, before remembering the mysteriously talking fireplace._The Dark Lord_, he knew. He slid out of bed, and advanced towards the hearth when he realized that he was in his boxers. _Somehow_, he thought dryly, _I don't think that Lord Voldemort would like to see me in my underwear. _He snatched his robes from a nearby armchair, wriggled into them, and then continued to the fireplace.

Draco looked backwards at Goyle and Crabbe, who were staring at him, then knelt, gathering his robes around him so that his boxers weren't on display, and then stuck his head into the flickering flames. There was a moment of feeling stupid, before Draco's head spun and swirled through a thousand fireplaces. He closed his mouth and his eyes in an attempt to stop himself from being sick.

At last, the twisting stopped, and Draco gasped for breath in Bellatrix Lestrange's fireplace. When his eyes settled back into their proper places in his skull, he saw a crowd of extremely angry Death Eaters. "Um. Hello… my Lord," he said respectively to the most important one in the room.

Draco got no answer – he was suddenly seized around the throat and dragged from the fireplace (Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini all screamed like girls when they saw Draco's lower spine, boxers and legs suddenly disappear into the fire). He was thrown onto the marble floor, given no time even to scream.

Instintively, he rolled over onto his back so that he could see what was going on. The Death Eaters were all glaring at him, grouping around his head and shoulders; Lord Voldemort was at his feet so that Draco could see him. There was a terrible silence, broken only by Draco's shallow breathing, before he asked, afraid, "My Lord – what's happening?"

"_How dare you_!" Bellatrix screamed, pointing her wand into his face. "Don't you dare be so insolent, boy – you have betrayed our trust!"

"What?" Draco said, "I've done no such thing! I've been loyal, I swear, my Lord -"

"Loyalty?" the Dark Lord sneered.

"Loyalty, Malfoy, is not usually described as _waltzin_' with the bloody enemy!" Rodolphus Lestrange roared.

Draco paled. "I was – getting information out of her," he gabbled.

"On _Valentine's_ Day?" inquired Bellatrix. "Now, Draco, mostly, we get information by torture – not by dates!"

"It wasn't a date," Draco threw out desperately. "Please, I swear, I wasn't -"

"_Do not swear a lie to the Dark Lord_!" Bellatrix screeched. "It is one of the utmost rules of the Death Eater kinship!"

"Yeah, and another one is not killing other Death Eaters!" Draco snarled, speaking without thinking over his actions. He immediately regretted it, as every face darkened.

"What?"

Draco gulped. There was no going back now. "You killed my parents," he said shakily, "you shot a curse at the wall next to them; it crumbled and _crushed the life out of them_!" The last few words became painfully similar to a sob, and Draco had to press his lips together hard to stop anymore from coming out.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," said Lord Voldemort softly. "_Poor _Draco. His parents were tragically killed… just like the other eight million orphans who inhabit the planet. I don't care for any of them, Draco. And I don't care for you, either. Do you know, if you were to die _right now_, I would not shed a _single _tear…" said Lord Voldemort, his voice lethally gentle.

Draco trembled slightly before he could stop himself; it made a few other Death Eaters laugh at him, especially the Lestranges. Professor Snape's lip curled dangerously, and the Dark Lord let out a low chuckle. "Draco, do you know _why_ I had your parents killed?" he asked.

Draco's breath snagged. "You – you _murdered _them!" he gasped, feeling tears stab at his eyes. "They were your followers and you… you… _murderer_!"

"I thought we were all in general agreement with the fact that he's a murderer," Rodolphus drawled. "Or, perhaps, we would all be followers to someone else?"

Lord Voldemort shot a death glare at him, and then returned his focus on Draco. "We killed your parents because they were getting cold fingers. They wanted to settle down, earn a pension, live peacefully and watch their son grow up," (tears stung Draco's blue eyes again), "but do you know what? I didn't want them to. I don't like people who leave my forces. There are _many _ways into the Death Eaters… but there's only one way out. Your parents wanted to leave _so _much – I had to give them their wish. We were going to kill them anyway… we don't like disloyalty."

Draco didn't have anything to say. He was terrified. The Death Eaters had murdered his parents for disloyalty. He had been disloyal. Put the pieces of the puzzle together.

He was screwed.

"And now, Malfoy, we do the same to you," sneered Lord Voldemort, "we've decided to let Macbain get the Weasley girl. He can be as creative as he wants – shame, really, I would have thought you'd like to be there. You still can, if you want," he turned, "Macbain!" he barked, "when you get the girl, bring her here. Malfoy wants to see her _squirm_."

"No!" Draco begged. "Don't hurt her – please."

Bellatrix stood, and, knowing what was coming, Draco closed his eyes. The slap hurt more than he had expected, standing out, a red handmark against white skin, but he didn't cry out. "Please," he said pleadingingly.

Lord Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Love sickens me," he spat. "Take him away."

Two strong arms curled under Draco's armpits and hauled him backwards. He did not struggle. He did not shout. He lay limply as they dragged him to a room that he'd only seen in his nightmares. When, finally, Macbain hurled him across the floor so that he slid and hit the wall, Draco gasped out, "Macbain – wait."

Macbain's eyes narrowed. "Whaddaya want?" he grunted, cracking his knuckles.

"I know that you like killing people. I know … please – _sir_ – if you could maybe take the necklace from Ginny, but… leave her alive… then," Draco gulped, "you can have as much… _fun_… as you wanted with her death… as you can have…with mine."

Macbain's lip thinned with displeasure. "Girls are more fun," he growled. "I dun' think I'll take ye up on yer offer." Draco lowered his head, hitting it against the floor. There was a terse quietness for two seconds; then, Macbain spoke again. "Malfoy. Draco. Whoever ye are… I'm not gonna hurt 'er… just…" he waved his thick, short wand, miming a spell, "avada kedarvra. It dun _hurt_, Malfoy."

Draco didn't move.

Macbain stood quietly, not doing anything. Memories were welling up in the gruff old man, memories that the Dark Lord had forced him to push away. _A beautiful girl with long black hair… kisses… "She is not important, Macbain"… "SHE IS!"…_ Macbain shuddered, and then looked up at Draco again. "Oi," he grumbled, "I'll… I'll save 'er. For ye."

Only now did Draco lift his head. Gratitude was shining in his icy eyes, and the smallest of smiles pulled at his thin lips. "Thank you," he whispered, and then Macbain left, slamming the door loudly behind him, leaving Draco to his own despair.

Draco pretended to be a Death Eater; he pretended to be a murderer for the Dark Lord. Before that, he pretended to be a tough, cold-hearted bully for his father. _"I don't want a silly little wimp as my son," Lucius had jeered. He turned, and picked up the pale five-year-old sitting on the carpet, "you're my big, strong boy, aren't you?" "Yeah," said Draco, "m'a big boy!"_ A sensitive, quiet child wasn't worth anything. No-one wanted the boy who played with ladybirds and envied his female cousin for all the lovely things she got.

He curled up into a foetal position, not wanting to see the horrible room he was in anymore. Draco did not want to see the blood-stained wooden table or the chains hanging from the ceiling, each rusty link coated in dry blood. He did not want to see the locked door in front of him; all he wanted to do was sit, cry for the death that awaited him, and hope that Ginny would be happy without him in her life.

_If she loved me… maybe she'd be devastated…_ the thought of Ginny being in love with him momentarily comforted, but then, seeing an image in his head of her sobbing over his grave made his heart hurt again. "Please be happy," he begged. Draco knew that he was talking to himself, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. _I'm dying for you, Ginny. I hope that you can marry Harry and have lots of tiny Ginnys. Please be happy_.

The lyrics that they had danced to only two weeks ago came back to Draco.

_I will never let you fall_

_I will stand up for you forever_

_I'll be there for you through it all_

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven_

"How ironic," Draco laughed through his tears. "They couldn't have worded it better." He began to sing it softly under his breath, over and over again, imagining that Ginny could hear him and knew how much he loved her.

A cruel, heartless boy who no-one had ever loved… he had survived through so much, never really knowing why. _But the thing is, _Draco finally realized_, why are we all alive? I had no reason to survive. No-one loved me… and I didn't love anyone in return. It was a fair exchange. Funny, isn't it, how now that I finally know what love is… how now that I finally have a reason to live – I'm going to die. For her_.

"I love you, Ginny," he said to his knees. "I never had a chance to tell you – and you can't hear me. I don't give a damn. I just want to _say _it. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. I love you more I love _myself_, for heaven's sake. If you wanted it, I would get you the world – and I'd wrap it in gold paper for you! With a ribbon on top… and a note. _Hello Ginny_, it'd say. _Hello, and I love you. Always have and always will. Love, Draco. _And – and then, I'd put loads of kisses. X-X-X-X-X-X-X. For all the years that I've wasted hating your family when there was something so much better that I could have had."

Draco closed his eyes. "I want to see you… one last time… red hair… hazel eyes… heart-shaped face… and that lovely way that you blush whenever you say something stupid. I love the stupid things you say… they're always so much better than the adoring crap that _Sanchia_ came up with," he mumbled with a bitter laugh.

"Will you shut _up_? God, you've been rambling on for fifteen minutes straight," snapped a sarcastic female voice.

Draco looked up. He wished he hadn't. He saw the merciless eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, who had probably never loved anyone but herself; he saw the torture instruments scattered throughout the room. And _she _saw his tears.

"Aw, he's been _crying_," pouted Bellatrix. She crouched beside Draco, her skirts swirling across his feet, and then pinched his cheek the way a doting grandmother might. "Diddums."

"Don't touch me," said Draco shakily. He moved away from her, backing into the wall again. "Get the hell away from me."

Bellatrix raised one slender black eyebrow. "Oh, _feisty_," she hissed. "What are you going to do, Malfoy? _Bite_ me?" she cackled. "Face it, you're helpless. I have your wand… _and _my own. What fun we'll have."

Draco fought to keep his body still. His hands were shaking but he clenched them to hide his fear. "I thought that Macbain was going to kill me," he said flatly. "Or have you decided to take it in turns?" _Sarcasm, ever-present in danger_.

"Not a bad idea, that," Bellatrix said, mocking that she might consider it. "_But, _the Dark Lord says that I'm to have my fun… and then Macbain can throw the ultimate party… if you get my meaning."

Draco glared at her. "Pity, really, I'm not really a party kind of person," he sneered, "I am a bit of a loner, I must admit. Oh well," he shrugged, "I suppose that's what working for a lunatic does to you."

Bellatrix turned purple with rage. "Do not insult the Dark Lord," she snarled, and, this time, Draco was not prepared for the slap. It lifted him from his foetal position and tossed him into the corner of the room.

"Can I just say," Draco said dryly, "that you should really pursue another career. May I suggest female wrestling? I mean, that was some slap."

Bellatrix tossed her wild black curly hair over her shoulder. "No, I don't think so," she leered, "after all, slapping _is _fun… but nothing compared to the entertainment I get with these babies…" she gestured, almost fondly, towards the chains.

"You sick freak," spat Draco. "You're an insane murderer. You killed your own sister. You killed your brother. You're about to kill your nephew, too. Not to mention the fact that you have your own torture chamber in your basement. Your parents must be _so _proud at what a psychopath they've raised."

"Leave my parents out of this! _Crucio_!" Bellatrix shrieked, jabbing her wand forwards.

Draco saw the flash of blue light before he felt the pain. A million burning daggers were being stabbed into him, his skin was being ripped off, _make it stop make it stop_, he was screaming and screaming, Bellatrix was laughing – then, mysteriously, the pain stopped. Blue light was still flowing into him, but he felt nothing. He rasped for air; then the room started melting.

"What?" he gaped as the walls and the ceiling disintegrated. Then he was seeing Macbain, stalking angrily through a forest… and there was… "_Ginny_!" Draco cried. Tears of relief burned at his eyes – she was there, beautiful and happy and safe… what was Macbain doing? He lifted his wand-

"CRUCIO!" Macbain shouted. A beam of blue magic hit Ginny squarely in the chest. She fell to the ground, screaming, high-pitched and anguished, writhing in the leaves, tears pouring down her freckled face.

"NO!" Draco yelled. "Stop it! Please, _please stop it_! You – you – no! STOP! Macbain, _stop_!"

Ginny was screaming louder than ever, her lovely voice raw and desperate as she screeched, "_Please make it stop_!" She twisted her hands into claws, digging into the ground, her screams loud and terrible. "_What do you want_?" she sobbed.

"NO! NO! PLEASE, STOP IT!" Tears were flowing down Draco's face. The pain to his actual body had stopped long ago, but this was worse, much worse, his insides were being torn apart. "_PLEASE STOP IT_!"

Ginny was screaming the same words as she thrashed about it the dirt; Macbain was laughing his head off as he cut the curse. Ginny collapsed in a heap, weeping through her cries of agony. "What do you want?" she howled as she staggered to her feet, trying to run. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh, but ye have," sneered Macbain. "_Sectumsempra_!" Purple light flashed, and then huge, gaping wounds sliced through Ginny, her chest, stomach and head slashed. Her legs took a laceration as well, and she collapsed backwards. Blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death.

"NO!" Draco ran forwards desperately, but there was an invisible bubble around Ginny and Macbain, and he couldn't advance. He pounded his fists against the dome as he sobbed hopelessly, clawing at the barrier. "Let me through," he pleaded to Macbain; the other Death Eater ignored Draco and pretended that he couldn't see him. It was shredding him to pieces… he couldn't take it anymore, and screamed, "_YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T HURT HER_!"

Ginny choked out, "Why me?" before her head tilted backwards. She no longer had the strength to do anything but lie there in a large and steadily growing puddle of her own blood, not knowing that the person who loved her most in the world was only a metre away, trapped to never get close enough to hold her.

"HELP HER! HEAL HER!" Draco screamed. "I WAS CURSED! WITH THAT SPELL, BUT – BUT – I GOT BETTER! _YOU HAVE TO __**HELP **__HER!" _He beat his fists harder. "MACBAIN, HELP HER!"

Macbain stooped so that he was near Ginny's face. "Hey, darlin'," he leered, and snatched the necklace from her throat. Then he bent closer, darted his tongue out and licked her ear. Ginny didn't even flinch… she couldn't.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Draco screamed. "GET THE BLOODY HELL AWAY FROM HER – Ginny, Ginny, _no -_" Macbain strutted away, leaving Ginny to die, alone and in agony. "NO, GINNY… _please_… I love you… someone, anyone, please save her…" Draco sobbed breathlessly. Then Ginny's head rolled to the side; she would never laugh, blush, or hurdle the sofas in the Gryffindor common room for fun again.

"_**NO**_!" Draco screamed. "_**GINNY**_!" Then, suddenly, he was back in the Lestrange torture chamber. There was blood dripping from his hands from where he had clenched his fists so tightly that he had cut into his palms. It was fake… Ginny was okay… _She's alive, she's alive_… Draco reminded himself, but the image of blood dripping down her once-beautiful face was stuck in his mind. He sobbed into his hands, but then he was hauled to his feet and shoved violently into the wall.

The chain struck again and again; Draco's body buckled but he could barely feel the pain. He was shaking from the images racing through his mind of Ginny. Hot, wet, sticky blood was dripping down his back, and he could barely stand. _Stay strong… don't give in to them…_ then the chain struck his knees, and as his legs were cut open, so like what had happened to Ginny's, he crumpled, and lay uselessly in the corner.

"Please leave me alone…" he sobbed.

Bellatrix bent and slapped him hard again. Her nails cut into his skin, but that was nothing compared to everything else. "Dear nephew, I hope that your death is… _painless_," she cackled, and sashayed from the chamber.

_If only Sanchia could see me now_, Draco mused_, I wouldn't be such a heroic gentleman anymore… I'm just a coward._ He hid his face as he cried into the wall. No-one would comfort him… even when he had been a small child with his parents still alive, his injuries had gone almost unnoticed. No-one would notice him now.

_Not even Ginny…_

**A/N:** Sorry, it was a bit of a depressing chapter. I _did _warn you. ACK! Nearly finished.. I'll be so sad to end this… ah well. Please review.


	33. The Scry

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Late February. This is a nicer chapter, but we see a Dark side of Ginny… and we also see the sensitive girl that the Bat-Bogey Hex so accurately covers. P

**READ: **If you read the last chapter, that's fine. Continue. If you didn't because you read the warning, here's basically what happened – Draco was called to see Lord Voldie, and they all turned against him. He was kidnapped and sent to be tortured, and Macbain was sent to kill Ginny. Draco was given Crucio etc, and then he had images planted in his mind of Ginny being horrifically murdered… that's basically it.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Thirty-Three: The Scry**_

_**GINNY**_

"I heard it was a set-up."

"What, disappearing in a fireplace?"

"I heard he's been expelled."

"Why would he been expelled?"

"I don't know – maybe because he killed the old Headmaster?!"

"I heard that he was expelled because he was the one who attacked Ginny Weasley in the night."

"Why would he do a thing like that?"

"He's had it in for the Weasleys for years."

"Whatever – _I _heard that he eloped with Madam Rosmerta's daughter."

Ginny pursed her lips. Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle and Victor Crabbe had told Professor Umbridge about Draco's disappearance, so of course the toad announced it to the whole school. Now all of Hogwarts was spreading rumours about why he was gone.

She hated to admit that she was so dependent on him, but Ginny missed him terribly, and couldn't help worrying about whether he was safe. She glanced sideways; Ron and Hermione were busy arguing, Luna and Harry were chatting about something – no-one would see her sneak away. She hurried down a set of stairs, through a secret passageway, behind a tapestry, and then she stopped, before the wall where the Room of Requiremens door would appear.

Nobody was around. Ginny drew her wand and tapped the wall. "I want a room to Scry in," she whispered. There was a silence, and then a door pushed through the stone wall. Ginny slipped into the room. It was small, dimly-lit, and in the centre of it was a bowl filled almost to the brim with clear water.

She walked quickly to the bowl, sat beside it, cross-legged, and then inspected her wand. _Ah, it's clean enough_. She held her wand vertically and lowered it carefully until its tip submerged. Then she drew it swiftly in an S-shape, hissing, "Bethelio aislin lourdius."

Where she had drawn her wand, a thin red line appeared, following the curve of the shape she had sketched on the water; an S formed on the water surface. The red thickened outwards until the water was pure, thick and crimson. Then Ginny said clearly, "Draco Ophius Malfoy," and plunged her wand down sharply into the scarlet water.

From her wand, the water cleared immediately, and Ginny peered into the water. _Come on, show me Draco_, she urged the bowl silently. Then the liquid became black, and it spat her wand out, tossing it across the room into the wall. Ginny gazed in horror at the bowl. It was bubbling… the gurgling diminished, and then the water became clear again.

"You're _joking_," said Ginny quietly. "No way." She looked up. _Fred. I need Fred, George and Elma Tonks again. _She stood, Summoned her wand, and ran from the Room of Requirements. She had disappeared before the door could even slam.

"Professor McGonagall!" she gasped out, slamming her knuckles, hard, on the Deputy Headmistress' door. "Please, it's urgent."

There was a sickening moment when Ginny was scared that the only teacher who would really understand what she was going through was ignoring her. Then the door swung open, and Ginny was faced with Professor Snape.

"_Urgent_, eh?" Snape sneered. "I highly doubt that anything you have to say could be urgent, Miss Weasley."

"Please, sir, it's extremely important!" Ginny cried. She was being rude to Snape by shouting at him, but she _needed _to save Draco. "I have to see Professor McGonagall."

"Do not speak to your Professors in such a manner! Apologize _instantly _and that will be five points from Gryffindor. Consider yourself lucky that -"

"_Severus_!" Professor McGonagall barked. "I think that you should leave the matter in _my _hands – she came to address me on something _I _would regard important, not _you_!" she frowned at Snape, and then ushered Ginny into her office. "What is wrong, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny cast a nervous glance backwards at the Potions master, before taking a deep breath and saying, "Professor McGonagall, Draco Malfoy is in danger!"

Snape's eyes widened with surprise, before narrowing suspiciously; McGonagall frowned slightly. "We already suspected as much, Miss Weasley, due to the fact that he has no living family that would willingly take him away with no notice. Do you any idea of his whereabouts?"

Snape stepped forwards almost threateningly, opening his mouth, but he was silenced by one look from McGonagall.

Ginny bowed her head. "No, Professor McGonagall, I don't, but if I could perhaps speak to Fred and George to use their Extendable Ears again -"

"Minerva, may I interrupt?" Snape asked silkily. "Considering that we did not alert the students of Mister Malfoy's situation, I am extremely interested as to how she knew." Both Professors turned expectantly towards the sixteen-year-old.

Ginny's breath caught. "Professors… I – just," she paused, and then, breathing deeply, said unabashedly, "I Scryed him."

Professor Snape sharply in took his breath; Professor McGonagall stared. "You were using Black magic on campus?" he snarled. "Such acts are illegal in Britain, punishable by Azkaban, I do not think that such a -"

"_It doesn't matter_!" Ginny cried. "It doesn't matter how I saw him. Who gives a damn if I used an amount of harmless Black magic – one of your students is held by Dark wizards!"

Professor Snape's lip curled at the language and looked as though he would like nothing better than to throttle Ginny. She glared sideways at him. _I know that you're a Death Eater, and I know that I'm probably ruining all of Voldemort's plans. Happy now?_

"Miss Weasley… you were close to Mister Malfoy, am I correct?" McGonagall probed.

Ginny didn't see how this had anything to do with what was going on. "Draco is being held _hostage_! I didn't think it would matter if I liked him, hated him, was his classmate or had secretly been _married _to him for three years! We have to save him!" she exclaimed.

"_Answer the damn question!"_ Snape snarled.

Ginny stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Yes," she snapped. "He's my best friend."

Both Professors did not try to hide their astonishment. McGonagall merely raised her eyebrows, whereas Snape spluttered, "but you are a Gryffindor and he is Slytherin! It simply doesn't work that way – you are closest to Granger and Lovegood, I thought!"

"_Why _does it even matter?" Ginny shouted. "He's my best friend and he's a hostage – why is it so difficult for you to agree to help him?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Miss Weasley, sit down." Reluctantly, Ginny obeyed. "Miss Weasley… we haven't informed the students… but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is growing stronger, and getting closer. I daresay you recall what I told you earlier in the school year?"

Ginny folded her arms across her chest, staring at her shoes. Without looking up, she nodded curtly.

"I am merely worried for your sake that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is doing this on purpose – drawing you out of safety by kidnapping one of your closest friends in the hope that we, quite sensibly, would deny you from going, and that you would go to rescue him by yourself," Professor McGonagall explained.

"The sort of thing that Mister Potter does every year," Professor Snape said disdainfully; both McGonagall and Ginny glared at him.

"Anyway… what's your point?" asked Ginny suspiciously.

McGonagall regarded Ginny through her square spectacles. "I will conjure a Patronus to fetch Miss Tonks and the twins. I am also going to alert a group of Aurors to help Mister Malfoy. However, I am forbidding you to leave the Hogwarts grounds until the end of the school term. It isn't safe."

Ginny's face fell. _No more Hogsmeade with my friends. No more sneaky visits to the Forest. All because some lunatic decided that chasing Harry had gotten old._ She hid her disappointment, however, and asked, "When will everything be sorted out? Like… when will Draco be safe again?" she was being sappy and she knew it, but her own emotions were getting past her pride.

McGonagall looked sadly at the redhead. "I have no idea, Miss Weasley. It… it could be weeks."

"WHAT?" Ginny yelped. "He'll be _dead_ by then!" She jumped to her feet and looked frantically from the Transfiguration Professor to the Potions Professor. "We have to go after him _now_!" she leapt to her feet, pulling her wand out and pointing it to the floor. "Expecto patronum!" she shouted, squeezing her eyes shut. _Ginny was spinning under his arm, her own arm stretched upwards to almost its full extent, her skirt flaring around her knees, and then her journey across the dance floor came to abrupt halt and Draco caught her, his head lightly clapping her back, and then they were dancing, closer than ever, their bodies flush of each other._

From her wand tip a white light blossomed, and as it fell to the floor it took on the form of a large, glowing hare. Ginny opened her eyes to look at it. "Get my brothers – Fredrick and Goerge Weasley – and Elma Tonks. Tell them: 'Apparate to Professor McGonagall's office immediately. It's urgent'." The hare twitched its nose once and then disappeared.

"Everything seems to be _urgent_, these days," Snape said icily.

Ginny glared at him, and sank back into her chair. Ignoring her Potions teacher's sarcastic comments, she began to twine a loose strand of red hair into a thin braid.

"May I ask, Miss Weasley – is this the first time you have Scryed?" Snape asked, trying to sound casually uninterested. Needless to say, it wasn't quite working, and his fascination was very obvious. Ginny looked up at the sallow-skinned, hook-nosed man before her. She knew that Snape was involved in the Dark Arts, but his sudden attention to her Black magic skills was unnerving. _I'm not like him_, Ginny told herself_, I'm not a Death Eater and I'm not a Black witch_. At length she answered his question by shaking her head slightly.

"You've Scryed before?" McGonagall repeated incredulously. "On whom?"

Ginny did not lift her gaze. "Percy," she said flatly. Though it was a year ago, she remembered it well. _Fourteen-year-old Ginny knelt before the bowl, staring into its depths. "Bethelio aislin lourdius," she told it, drawing the according S-shape. It widened until it was almost as though she was looking at a basin of blood. Glancing up briefly to check that her mother would not suddenly burst through her bedroom door to find Ginny using Black magic, she spoke her sibling's name. "Percival Ignatius Weasley." She stabbed her wand down into the redness. There was a swirling of water, and then Ginny saw the unmistakable silver mist clouding the now-clear water… the mist of the dead. Tears tracked down her face – so young, yet she had seen more horrors than most adults would ever see. It was true. Percy was gone. _

McGonagall fell in a respective silence for the boy, forever twenty. After the hush had grown thin and uncomfortable, she asked, "Have you used any other Black magic?"

Now Ginny met the Deputy Headmistress' stare. "Once," she said awkwardly. "I… I Transformed myself. Into the Other state. I… went into Ron's head."

Now both Professors' eyes widened. To Transform was to turn to your Other form – that of a daemon. Daemons could control and even destroy other people's minds. Little, innocent Ginny wasn't as little and innocent as she looked, it seemed.

"And anything else?" McGonagall asked, putting the usual stern, commading tone into her voice.

Ginny looked blankly ahead. "No," she lied. "I haven't." McGonagall eyed the girl for a moment, but accepted the untruth, and dismissed Ginny from her office, saying that she would be informed when Fred, George and Tonks arrived. The redhead ducked past Professor Snape and headed away. She wasn't sure where she wanted to go… she couldn't face seeing anyone. Especially not Ron, Harry or Hermione. Luna… she could just about bear. However, Luna wouldn't understand why Ginny didn't want to see the Golden Trio.

No, the person that Ginny wanted to talk to was Draco. He would understand. He would know exactly what to say to comfort her, and exactly how to make her smile. He was the most amazing person in the world; her best friend… and maybe more. Just two weeks ago she had admitted to Hermione that she fancied Draco, and then told Luna the next day. However, that was easy. Ginny also fancied Alan Levent, the handsome English Quidditch player for the Chudley Cannons (he was the only reason that she agreed to go to matches with Ron, who supported them), Roger Davies, a very handsome ex-Ravenclaw who was now nineteen and working in the Ministry of Magic, and Orlando Bloom, a Muggle actor who she had seen in one of Hermione's films.

She could fancy a thousand people. She could fancy random guys on the street who she didn't know. Fancying was easy – but Ginny was torn. She was scared that her feelings would grow… and equally scared that they would fade away. She needed a girl to talk to.

Luna – yes, but no. She was trustworthy, but she was never without the others, who she didn't want to have to talk to.

Hermione – no. She would tell Harry and, worse still, Ron.

Moaning Myrtle – perhaps. Myrtle, Draco and Ginny were all very close, and Ginny was worried that Myrtle might accidentally tell Draco at some point. _If he comes back alive, that is_, her brain reminded her. _SHUT UP_, she screamed at the annoying voice.

Shaking her head to get rid of images of a broken, bleeding Draco, she headed towards the second floor girls' bathroom. _I'll tell Myrtle. I owe her; she __**did **__tell me about Nearly Headless Nick._ Ginny saw Ron and Hermione in each other's arms at the bottom of the fourth storey stairs, so she used a secret set of stairs behind the statue of Baldwin the Brave. She wanted to avoid them all today… and maybe tomorrow as well.

Ginny slipped through the door after checking that no-one was watching. Then, clicking it closed behind her, she called tentatively, "Myrtle?"

There was a pause before the younger (or older, whichever way you looked at it) girl floated out of a cubicle. "Have they found Draco yet?" she asked – Ginny had already informed her of everything that had happened.

Despair welled up in her heart, and Ginny revealed everything that had happened, in both the Room of Requirement and in Professor McGonagall's office. "And then," she finished, "I couldn't face seeing Harry, Ron, Hermione - or even Luna – so I came here. I _need _someone to talk to. I'm going to go insane."

Myrtle made sympathetic noises and patted Ginny's back while the redhead sighed, depressed, and stared at the ground. _I have to tell her… no, don't, she'll tell Draco… she wouldn't… she would… she _– "Myrtle, I think that I have a crush on Draco," she blurted out, and instantly felt her face grow warm.

The young ghost tilted her head slightly sideways. "I knew it would happen," she said pensively.

Ginny frowned. "How?"

Myrtle rolled her eyes. "Please. Hurt, misunderstood, gorgeous boy. Hurt, misunderstood, gorgeous girl. Put them together. There's _no way_ that you weren't going to fall for each other," she said.

Ginny turned pink. "I'm not hurt or misunderstood!" she said defensively. "And I'm not falling for him! I just… sort of like him."

Myrtle smirked infuriatingly.

"What?" Ginny snapped. _I'm beginning to regret telling Myrtle. Why is she smirking like that?! What does she know that I don't?! _"What's so funny?"

"The funny thing is, Ginny, that I didn't hear a denial to the _'gorgeous'_," Myrtle grinned. "I heard a denial to hurt… misunderstood… and falling for each other. BUT, when I said he was gorgeous… you didn't deny it!"

Ginny's pink face flushed to red. "I'm – not – but – no – I -" Myrtle was still smirking… "Okay, okay! He's… sort of kind of maybe sort of perhaps a _little_ cute," she snapped, lowering her head so that she could hide her glowing cheeks behind her hair.

"Ginny, you're on fire."

"What?!" Ginny yelped.

Myrtle rolled her eyes again. "I _meant_, you're blushing. You're blushing like hell, and that means you _like _him."

Ginny stared up at the slightly taller girl. "I thought we had just confirmed that I liked him," she said wryly. "Anyway, Myrtle, the point is… I like him a little more than a friend – I think… and he's being held by Dark Wizards! No-one's willing to help him just because everyone thinks that he killed Professor Dumbledore, and no-one's to help me because now they all know that I practice Black magic. And they could be _hurting_ him!"

Myrtle buried her face in her hands. "I know…" she murmured. "I'm worried too. But… Ginny."

"What?"

"You know… he_ is_ our best friend. And he _is _nice to us, and we know that he's been hurt badly in the past and needs healing…" Myrtle bit her lip. "Gin, he's still a Death Eater."

Ginny's heart lurched painfully in her ribcage. Involuntarily, a hand flew to her chest, above her heart – she dropped her hand back to its correct place when Myrtle raised an eyebrow, blushing again. _Oh God. I forgot. He might… he might not be hurt. He might still be working for Lord Voldemort… and Lord Voldemort wants to __**kill**__ me._ "Myrtle…" she said slowly. "I know what you're getting at… but… do you think that he's still on _their _side?"

Myrtle sighed. "There's no way of telling. We never discuss it, so I don't know his opinions."

Ginny huffed her breath sadly. "I'm just worried. He's my best friend – but what if he's still on Lord Voldemort's -" (Myrtle flinched) "- side? What if… he's trying to kill me?"

Both girls fell totally silent. Neither of them moved. Then Myrtle scooted over and wrapped her translucent arms around Ginny. "I'm sorry that I can't be of more help," Myrtle said miserably, "and I just… I hate it! You and Draco can live your lives happily… when you graduate, you can get jobs, you can get married, you can have children, you… you can do anything." Myrtle looked down at her hands. "All that's in my future is sitting in this stupid toilet cubicle for the rest of eternity."

"Myr, it's okay -"

"No, it's not!" Myrtle burst out. "You'll grow up and you'll make new friends… and I'll be left here, by myself… then, one day, you'll die and be gone _forever_… and I'll still be here…"

Ginny felt so bad for Myrtle. "I'm sorry, Myr. It's wasn't your fault that you died. And, if it makes you feel any better, when I'm older, I'll come and teach at Hogwarts. I'll take a potion so that I live forever… and we can always be friends. And when I finally _do _die… I'll become a ghost. And we can still always be friends."

"What about Draco?" Myrtle asked sorrowfully.

Ginny's heart panged. "I have _no _idea," she whispered. "But right now, I don't care about the future. I just want him here. I want him safe. And I don't care how much it takes… how much magic it takes – White… or Black."

And so they sat, desolate and depressed, in each others' arms.

**A/N:** Also a bit of a depressing chapter. Oh well. It only gets worse! XD Just joking. Please review.


	34. Hooks

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Late February. This is another nasty chapter, _sorry_. Had to do it. The name of the chapter is a bit grim but no fear! Anywho. Read it.

**WARNING: This is another dark, icky torture chapter. Skip it if you wish. If you're normal and don't care because its fictional, continue.**

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Thirty-Four: Hooks**_

_**DRACO**_

Hours passed. The sun fell. Darkness filled the house, and Draco could vaguely hear a clattering of knives and forks above. It was dinner time; his stomach grumbled, but no food would come, he knew. The blood had dried on his back long ago, and he had decided against moving – the healing wounds cracked and bled more. His legs were the worst; walking was impossible. Standing was agony. Sitting ached terribly. Staying in the same place, curled up on the ground, hurt.

However, the physical pain was nothing compared to how his mind felt. The Cruciatus Curse. His father had told him about the bodily side of it – being stabbed, being torn apart… but the mental… it worked for one sole purpose. To take your worst fears and show it to you, only bigger, and a thousand times worse.

_It was fake. It was fake. _Draco said it to himself non-stop; mostly in his head, but sometimes aloud, though it hurt his throat and he needed no more injuries. Ginny's blood-stained face was floating in front of his eyes all the time. He tried to conjure up images of her laughing, singing, dancing, blushing – but then, mid-laugh, mid-song, mid-dance, mid-blush, she screamed, writhed, and bled terribly all over again.

Just thinking about it made him start to shake again. Draco closed his eyes, and he shivered – but, he realized, not because of the pain, emotional or physical… because it was cold. _Why is it so cold_, Draco wondered, and he craned his neck to look up.

There.

A window.

It was small, barred, and very high up. However, Draco knew that he could get out if he really tried. It was small, but he couldn't fit through if he wriggled a bit. It was barred… this was a problem. Draco didn't have his wand. It was high… another problem. He couldn't stand, let alone jump and drag himself up to the window height.

_I don't care. Macbain might not be true to his word. I know that I'm far from Hogwarts, but if I can get there before he does, I can protect Ginny. I might not be able to get Macbain away, but I'll die before she does, _Draco decided, and he looked up at the faulty window again. It was letting in the freezing February night air; he might freeze to death before he even got to Ginny, if his luck turned out badly.

"Oh well," joked Draco to himself. "At least I won't need an ice-pack." Grunting, he reached across for one of the chains, trying to reach it without having to move. A spasm of pain racked through his spine and he fell flat on his face. After a moment of lying still, trembling with the pain, he sat up slowly. At least his fit had brought him closer to the chains.

They were coated with his own blood, and even touching it, Draco felt sick to his stomach. He wrapped his aching fingers tight around the links though, and pulled the chain towards him. A few seconds' contemplation of the distance between window and boy passed before Draco picked up the chain, weighing it in his hands.

_If I threw it perfectly…_ Wincing at the prospect of the loud noise it would make, Draco lifted his arms higher to bring the chain as close to the window as possible. Then he threw it.

The chain whistled through the dank, cold air of the basement, and then struck the bars on the window, instead of sailing through the bars as it was intended to. The chain clattered deafeningly and then fell to the floor with a tremendous clang that shook Draco's skull. _Aah, too loud! The Lestranges will hear!_ He waited in terror for the thundering footsteps of Rodolphus or the petite pattering of Bellatrix; nothing came. _They must be upstairs_.

Draco gathered the chain back, and hefted it in his hands again. Then he hurled it out. CRASH. Draco winced. There was no way that the Lestranges couldn't have heard that. However, oddly enough, they did not rush down to torture him again, and Draco dragged the chain towards him. He ran the rough chain through his fingers. "Third time lucky," he muttered.

Out the chain flew… towards the bars… through them – Draco's breath caught… _do I dare to hope that it will work_?- the chain hit the window… bounced back… _yes yes yes_… slid down the windowsill… _yes yes __**yes**_... and curled around the bar, catching and remaining there, hanging from the chain. "Yes!" he hooted, remembering too late that he had to stay quiet about his escape.

Cringing inwardly, Draco waited… but Bellatrix did not burst through the door, blazing and shouting. _She must be … busy… upstairs with Rodolphus_, he thought, grimacing at the thought of Rodolphus and Bellatrix together. _Ew_.

Draco took a deep breath. This would be the painful part. He shifted slightly away from the wall, and then carefully started to turn around, still sitting with his knees tucked up. Soreness shot through his legs every time he moved his feet, but that was nothing compared to what he had already felt – he may have felt close to suicide during the torture, but as the saying went, _what doesn't kill you makes you stronger_. Anything that remotely hurt he could deal with; he could just think, _hey, it's not as bad as the torture_ or _I've dealt with worse, this is no big deal_.

Draco finally completed his full rotation, and was now facing away from the direction of the window. _Get ready for pain_. He took off his belt with a little difficulty, and clamped it between his teeth firmly. Then he started to lie down. He had to stretch his legs out at some point, and that would not be easy.

The instant that his legs flattened out, the blood cracked and the slowly healing wounds in his legs split. The healthy skin tore and pain twisted his brain, yelping… but he drove on and only ceased when his legs lay flat. Fresh blood was streaming onto the floor, and Draco sat back, gasping through the pain. He waited until his legs' suffering stopped, and then continued.

He flattened his back, too, with a lot of pain as he put pressure on the cuts in his back, and then carefully Draco turned over. Each twist of his body brought new boughts of pain, but he clamped down harder on the belt between his teeth and did not stop.

Once finally on his stomach, Draco stretched his arms out and shuffled forwards, in a weird, injured version of an army crawl. It didn't hurt too much unless he moved quickly or if he suddenly distorted his legs or back into a shape that the healing wounds couldn't handle.

"Come on, come on," he grunted as he crawled a few inches further. He was nearly there… just a bit more… there. Just underneath the window. Time to sit up. He pushed his arms up; his elbows were shuddering. He was weak. He wouldn't be able to do it… One final push, and then Draco rocked back onto his heels.

PAIN-

Draco yelled out, but his own shout reminded him of-

_Purple light flashed, and then huge, gaping wounds sliced through Ginny, her chest, stomach and head slashed. Her legs took a laceration as well, and she collapsed backwards. Blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death._

"No," Draco begged as the memories of the Cruciatus curse came flooding back. "Please…" he began shaking again, and his legs caved in, sending him tumbling against the wall.

_Ginny was screaming the same words as she thrashed about it the dirt; Macbain was laughing his head off as he cut the curse. Ginny collapsed in a heap, weeping through her cries of agony. "What do you want?" she howled as she staggered to her feet, trying to run. "I haven't done anything wrong."_

"Please stop…" he moaned desperately, curling his hands into fists again, once again digging into his bloody palms. The stone wall was cold, and, pressing his cheek against it, Draco's shuddering slowed to a slight tremble that rocked his movements every few seconds.

A pause. Draco retrieved the belt which had fallen from his mouth and landed a few inches away on the floor, sucked in as much air as he could, and then grabbed the wall. "Please don't give in on me," he told his legs, and then pulled himself up.

_PAIN PAIN PAIN_ –

Draco clenched his nails into his palms again, using the small amount of pain in his hands to distract him from the agony tearing through his back, legs, and, most importantly, his mind. Grinding his teeth together so that he could not cry out, he dragged his body up until he was standing to his full extent, though leaning completely on the wall.

He reached up and grasped the end of the chain that was hanging around the bars of the window, and pulled. PULL. Gasp for breath. PULL. Gasp for breath.

Not working.

_Come __**on**__, Draco, Ginny could be - blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death – __**DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT THAT**_

Draco slid back down the wall and sat. _Back to the drawing board_. He looked around the torture chamber again. There were several sharp hooks on the other side of the room that could be useful… Draco hauled himself to his feet again.

PAIN PAIN PAIN – _ignore it! _– one shaky step… **PAIN**… another… Draco yelled out and fell down. Blood seeped from the back of his legs and pooled on the floor; he coughed and rasped as he tried to subdue the agony whirling through his body. "Pull yourself together… _coward_," Draco spat, and then brought his hand to his face, fast. His own slap made his ears ring, but he shook the aching away and struggled to stand again.

One step… two steps… three… "I'm on a roll," Draco grimaced, "I can do this." Four steps… _pain pain pain make it stop, just sit down, sit down, please, it __**hurts**_… five… he tumbled down again, skidding across the stone floor and grazing his cheek. "Stupid… legs…" Draco grunted, leaning his head backwards, eyes closed. It was too difficult. He hurt too much. But Ginny was still vunerable. He had to go on.

As Draco unsteadily stood, he realized that he was doing now what he had always so despised Potter doing – playing the hero. _Yeah, but this is different_, argued Draco's head._ Potter played the hero because he wanted to stick his nose in everyone else's business. He got his godfather killed because of his need to try and save everyone._ It felt weird doing Potter's job, and he chuckled bitterly as he took his first steps.

If he could do five steps last time, perhaps Draco could aim for walking seven or eight this time. Slowly… slowly he could get back the use of his legs… escape… and save her. One – two – three – _here we go_ – the pain was less no – it still burned – four – five – _yes, yes, __**yes**_ – six – seven – eight – _LOOK AT ME GO_ – nine – ten –

DOWN.

This time, he fell against the wall, so it wasn't such a chore to stand up again. His legs were on fire… they should be resting… _no_… unstable, grunting with pain, he straightened and staggered a few short, insecure steps closer to the hooks. He had crossed half of the roof, moving sluggishly around the blood-soaked table in the centre of the room. Draco could see the hooks, glinting now, rusty and red with the blood of many victims.

Draco had a horrible thought. _When the victim dies – how are they disposed of_? Frightened, he glanced around, expecting to see rotting flesh hidden around the room. _Where will I go if I don't escape?_ However, he tried not to think of that, and took a few more steps. Twelve… thirteen… _I hope Ginny's okay –_

_Blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death –_

"STOP IT!" Draco screamed at his brain, but that only made it worse -

_He pounded his fists against the dome as he sobbed hopelessly, clawing at the barrier. "Let me through," he pleaded to Macbain; the other Death Eater ignored Draco and pretended that he couldn't see him. It was shredding him to pieces… he couldn't take it anymore, and screamed, "__**YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T HURT HER**__!"_

"NO!" Draco fell backwards, landing hard on his back. PAIN – but it was nothing compared to –

"_CRUCIO!" Macbain shouted. A beam of blue magic hit Ginny squarely in the chest. She fell to the ground, screaming, high-pitched and anguished, writhing in the leaves, tears pouring down her freckled face._

"PLEASE STOP IT!" Draco twisted as he brain conjured the same thing, spitting it out again and again –

_Then Ginny's head rolled to the side; she would never laugh, blush, or hurdle the sofas in the Gryffindor common room for fun again._

_Then Ginny's head rolled to the side; she would never laugh, blush, or hurdle the sofas in the Gryffindor common room for fun again._

_Then Ginny's head rolled to the side; she would never laugh, blush, or hurdle the sofas in the Gryffindor common room for fun again._

"STOP IT!" Draco screamed, kneading his head furiously with his fists. He dug his bloody nails into his forehead, any pain to stop his insides from being ripped apart by the memories. "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

_Then Ginny's head rolled to the side; she would never laugh, blush, or hurdle the sofas in the Gryffindor common room for fun again._

Draco lurched forwards, standing on his hands and knees, and then was sick on the floor as tears poured freely from his anguished blue eyes. He scooted backwards, pushing himself into the wall, hiding his face and crying his heart out like he had always been deprived of doing before, when his father hit him or his mother snarled insults. "Please," he said brokenly, "make it stop." He didn't care any more if Bellatrix or Rodolphus Lestrange were listening on his babyish wretchedness.

"Just leave her alone… I love you…" Draco whimpered, burying his face into the crook of his bruised elbow. And so the night went on.

**The Next Morning**

Draco blearily opened his eyes. His face was swollen from crying and beating himself up, but none of that mattered. He was still in this God-forsaken torture chamber and _she _could be –

_Don't think about it! …please…_

Draco felt like crying all over again, but he had wept himself to sleep and there were no tears left. After a moment of self-pitying, he hauled himself to his feet once more. The scabs cracked and bled again, but he was glad for the pain. It was something else to concentrate on. One step… closer to the hooks… they were gleaming so sinisterly… four steps… "nearly there," Draco said to himself. Seven steps…

The hooks were so close that he could almost touch them. Just a few more paces. Draco had to be incredibly careful; if he fell now, he could impale himself on the hooks. He leaned against the table for support, not really noticing that his hand was in a mess of someone else's dried blood. Taking a few steadying breath, he moved forwards again.

Each time that his foot rested down, a pang of soreness jolted up Draco's leg, making him wince – but it wasn't far now, and he could be out once he got the hook. He reached forwards, and his slim fingers closed around the filthy metal. There was also a sticky green substance on it that looked suspiciously like vampire blood. These matters aside, Draco pulled it away from the wall and, holding it far in front of him so that he didn't stab himself if he fell, staggered back to the window.

It was easier to walk. The sharp stabs of pain were now just a dull throbbing that ached through every portion of Draco's body, occasionally setting off a nervous breakdown, due to which he collapsed. Instead of the numerous spills that he had taken getting the hook, he only fell once, his face landing dangerously close to the curved point of the hook; Draco couldn't help but wonder fearfully how it must feel to have it dragged through your skin.

_Then Ginny's head rolled to the side; she would never_ – "No," Draco ground out angrily. "I'm not going to think about that. It was fake, and Ginny is alive." _Or so you think_, his conscience taunted. Shaking the thoughts away, he propped himself against the wall, and attached the hook to the chain.

"Here goes nothing," Draco said, and, holding the hook gingerly in both hands, began to stumble backwards, getting the other side of the chain as well, pulling the one around the bar out taut. When the chain wouldn't come any further, Draco pulled it – and let go. He tugged the first chain, and cringed in expectation. _Work, please work!_ The chain flew back to the bar. The chain passed through the bars easily enough, but the hook clawed into the bar, chewing away at it and –

"_What the bloody hell do you think you're doing_?!"

Draco turned so fast that he fell, hitting the back of his head painfully against the wall. Rodolphus Lestrange was standing in the doorway, looking livid, with a sneering Bellatrix just behind him. Rodolphus stepped forwards, "explain yourself!" he bellowed, raising his wand.

"Dolphus," snapped Bellatrix. "Calm down." She dodged her husband's hip and moved close to where Draco was huddled on the floor. "Dear nephew… I trust you slept well?" she sneered, lowering her thin, malicious face close to his.

Draco flinched away from her. He wasn't prepared to tell his aunt that he had cried his eyes out all night long, and he wasn't prepared to subject to torture again without a fight.

"Draco, let me tell you something," she said malovently, "you can try all your fancy little routines to pry those bars with torture instruments… but do you really think that Rodolphus and I hadn't already thought of that? Nothing short of a tank could get those bars off from the inside… except for, of course, a counter-curse that will only work if performed by my wand. On the outside, they're quite weak, which is a bit of a waste. But I doubt you'll ever go outside, so… my wand is your only hope."

Bellatrix Lestrange held her wand above Draco's face, taunting him to try and steal her wand so that he could escape. Draco stared past the wand, in his aunt's merciless eyes. She laughed at his defiant gaze, and stroked his hair, mocking love. "So if I were you, _darling_, I wouldn't bother. It's a waste of _breath_," she sneered, emphasising 'breath', mocking that her nephew's life was growing shorter.

Draco didn't know what came over him, but he screwed up his nose with repulse for the people he had once called 'family' and then spat in Bellatrix' face.

"UGH!" Bellatrix shrieked.

"You insolent toad!" Rodolphus yelled. "CRUCIO!"

"NO!" Draco screamed. "NOT AGAIN!" _PAIN_, ripping through his body, being killed a thousand times over, each of his bones was being broken one by one – why was he still whole – every inch of his skin was being stabbed, sliced, and pulled off…

The walls began melting again… "_NO_!" Draco screeched. "PLEASE! Don't make me have to see her -" A faint humming cut through his shouting. _DON'T LOOK_, his brain screamed, but he had to, he had to…

There she was, singing softly. It was the song that they had sung together at the Yule Ball. She twirled on the spot, and came face to face with a hulking shadow that was Macbain. "Whoa!" she cried, clutching her chest. "God, you scared me. I'm sorry." She tried to step past him, but Macbain blocked her.

"NO!" Draco howled. "PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME HAVE TO SEE -"

Macbain drew his wand.

"PLEASE, NO!" he screamed.

"CRUCIO!"

"_**NOOO**_!" Draco turned and ran. He couldn't watch it. But there was yet another dome – trapping him to watch her. "LET ME OUT!" Her harsh, high-pitched screams were still audible, amplified a thousand times, it seemed. He couldn't hide away from it. "_STOP IT_!" he screamed. "GET AWAY FROM HER!"

She was writhing, twisting horribly in the dirt, crying out in her death throes. Her hair was coming loose from its neat ponytail, hair flying over her distorted face. Now came something that Draco had not seen before: a Muggle knife.

"NO!" Draco screamed; he sprinted the other way. He hit the other side of the giant bubble, but refused to turn around to see Ginny dying. But then she and Macbain were in front of him as well, and he was watching her squirm in pain. "_**STOP IT**_!" he wheeled around. She was everywhere, screaming, thrashing, bleeding, weeping… "PLEASE, I DIDN'T MEAN TO BE DISLOYAL!" he sobbed. "JUST LET ME OUT! I DON'T WANT TO SEE THIS! PLEASE, PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP! _DON'T HURT HER_! _**STOP IT**_!"

Shaking uncontrollably, Draco fell to his knees. He had seen this once, and he would never be the same now. "It's fake, it's fake, it's fake," he screamed to himself, blocking his ears and staring down so that he didn't have to see it. Then, suddenly, on the ground beneath him, she was there. Ginny was gasping for breath, screaming as she died, twisting beneath him, her beautiful eyes wide and terrified. "_Please, Draco, stop hurting me_!" she screeched.

Draco leapt to his feet and staggered away. "NO – no – GINNY – it's not me – it wasn't me – GET ME OUT!" he screamed again, falling, throwing up, stumbling up again and racing away. She was everywhere. "_**PLEASE**_!" he yelled. "_**I DON'T WANT TO SEE THIS! I'M IN LOVE WITH HER! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE, BUT I AM, AND NO HUMAN BEING SHOULD HAVE TO ­**_- please, Ginny, _please_, no…" he sobbed breathlessly, curling up in a ball.

Back in the torture chamber.

Rodolphus and Bellatrix were cackling with pitiless, hysterical laughter as Draco returned to the real world. He was back, Ginny was safe, it was fake – but he was still screaming, still crying. "DON'T HURT HER!" he shouted. "PLEASE! STOP IT! LEAVE HER ALONE! TAKE ME INSTEAD, JUST _PLEASE PLEASE_ STOP HURTING HER!"

Bellatrix screamed with laughter. "I haven't had this much fun in _years_," she giggled evilly.

Draco had been wondering about the hooks.

He found out.

**A/N:** If you made it this far, well done. You're not a squeamish freak! –hug- Sorry, it was pretty much the same old boring stuff as the last torture chapter. Don't worry, this is the last torture chapter for poor ickle Drakonus. I luff him. Please review.


	35. Decisions and Drawings

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Late February. This is another long chapter… sorryyy. I think this is a sort of exciting chapter (as well as the next one). ENJOY! D

**READ: I'm really sorry for the chapter called Hooks. I KNOW that it was really boring, but I had to put some space between the Scry and Decisions & Drawings, and I also needed to tell you that there was a window in the basement. It was important. But I couldn't just have Chapter Thirty-Four: The Window: Draco saw a window, and said, "oh cool. I could escape through there" and then FINISH! So bleurgh.**

**Sorry!**

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Thirty-Five: Decisions and Drawings**_

_**GINNY**_

"Miss Weasley, are you even paying attention?"

Ginny's head snapped up. "Sorry?" she asked stupidly, causing everyone around her to laugh. She coloured, and set down her quill, using the broad feather to hide the sketch of a tall, pale boy. "Excuse me, sir… I didn't hear you."

"Yes, Miss Weasley, I thought as much," sneered Professor Snape. "Now, if you could set your quill down for just a moment and prove to the class how much attention you have been paying… what is the difference between the Doonebury Draughts and the Jarman Formulae?"

Ginny hesitated. _Come on, brain, this is where you're supposed to kick in!_ "Er," she said, hoping to buy herself time, but still nothing came to her. A few Slytherins snickered at her stupidity. "One is… one is…" she sighed. "I don't know, Professor."

"I thought as much," Professor Snape repeated icily. "That will be five points from Gryffindor. I _said_, the Jarman Formulae is a draught conceived by Lorna Hartnett and Christopher Jarman in 1322…"

Snape seemed to have it in for Ginny since the meeting in Professor McGonagall's office, though when he gave her the detentions that he so frequently served out, he merely interrogated her about her Black magic for hours. She remembered one of their conversations:

"_I am no fool, Miss Weasley. Professor McGonagall asked you, 'Have you ever used any other Black Magic' and you said, 'no'. That was a lie. So naïve you must be, to leave your mind unprotected when lying…" Snape said silkily. "Tell me, what Black magic have you done aside from Transforming and Scrying?"_

"_None. I haven't done any," snapped Ginny. She instantly felt the probe in her mind, but she clamped down on it and tore the probe to pieces. __**Get out of my mind, Death Eater**__Ginny thought angrily to herself, so that Snape could not hear her._

Ginny picked up her quill and inspected the drawing that she had made on a scrap of loose parchment. Draco's face was too round, and she had forgotten to sketch in his new haircut. She scratched an X across his face, crumpled the parchment and shoved it angrily into her bag. Looking around, she found that she had no parchment left except for her homework – drawing Draco on _that _would not be smart.

Suddenly the door flew open and a large, tawny owl swooped in. The class was disrupted and everyone gasped and gossiped in the momentary distraction that the owl's arrival caused. Snape stared at the owl; so did Ginny. There was no mistaking the tiny, neat scrawl on it saying, _Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley_. Ginny looked up and found herself staring into Professor's Snape black-onyx eyes from across the classroom, so terrifying like her magical necklace.

Ginny reddened under the piercing gaze of the Potions master who seemed so fascinated by her all of a sudden, and looked down at her homework. She keep her head down, but she averted her eyes from her work and peeked up at Snape through her reddish-black eyelashes.

Snape had peeled the parchment from the owl's leg and was reading it, his black eyes scanning whatever was written with a hawk-like gaze. Then his eyes snapped up to stare at Ginny. "Miss Weasley," he said coldly.

Everyone in the classroom shut up and stared at Ginny. She was being pulled out of a lot of classes – first out of a History of Magic exam, and now out of Potions when they were doing end-of-year-test revision? It was mad.

Trembling slightly, Ginny stood. She presumed that it was from Professor McGonagall about Fred, George and Elma Tonks, and she was worried about what she would find out from her siblings and Fred's girlfriend. She untidily swept her belongings into her bag, and, swinging it onto her shoulder, squeezed past Colin Creevey, his girlfriend Anchee Salil, and a chunky Slytherin boy called Louis Caletti.

"Yes, Professor?" Ginny asked, stopping beside Snape's broad desk.

Snape surveyed her, making Ginny feel as though she was under a very harsh spotlight. She stared defiantly up into his sallow face, and waited for him to respond. Snape thrust the parchment at her. "Professor McGonagall wants you," he said smoothly, his voice dangerously soft.

Ginny took the parchment, and then, tearing her hazel eyes from her Professor's dark ones, left the Potions chamber. She moved quickly, and as she mounted the steps, her eyes darted sideways to glance at the secret wall that formed the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Memories of standing out there with Draco filled her, and worry took over her brain as she moved faster up the stairs.

Only Filch questioned her about being out of class, and she brandished the note at him; Ginny made it to Professor McGonagall's office fairly untroubled. As she raised one hand to knock, paralyzing fear took over her senses. _What will they have to say? What if Draco's hurt? What if he's… __**dead**_

Her breath came ragged and sharp, her heart pounding madly. "No, that's impossible," she whispered. Ginny shook the thoughts from her head, fiery ponytail hitting each shoulder in turn. She held her head high, and rapped smartly on the wood of the door.

"Come in," called Professor McGonagall's stern voice.

Ginny pushed open the door and entered. "Hello Professor," she said politely. "Hello Fred, George, Tonks." She smiled weakly at them each, but she couldn't muster a grin.

The three young adults exchanged glances, unnerved by Ginny's 'welcome', if it could be called that. "Sit down, Gin. Are you okay?" Elma Tonks asked kindly.

Ginny smiled again, and nodded, hiding everything that was buzzing in her head. She lowered herself into a hard-backed chair, and then she said seriously, "I trust that McGonagall told you why you're here?"

"We've already checked," said Fred bluntly.

Ginny looked up, alarmed.

"We used the Extendable Ears to try and hear what was happening in the Lestrange castle," he continued, and was about to come out with the truth when he saw his sister's expression. She looked stricken, her fingers holding the chair's arms so tightly that her knuckles were white.

George decided to take over, being the more sensitive of the twins. He crouched beside Ginny and placed his hand over her. "Gin… he's there," he said softly.

A thousand emotions blurred Ginny's eyes. The first was relief – Draco was alive – and then, almost immediately, came despair – the Lestranges had him. They were the most cruel, insane Death Eaters. Then, something struck her. "George… Fred…" she asked slowly, "how – how did you know that Draco was at the Lestrange mansion?"

The adults looked at each other again. "We heard him," they said together.

_Not good, not good, not good… _"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, feeling her legs start to twitch of their own accord as nervous spasms shook her body.

"Screaming," said Fred quickly, forcing it out as quickly as possible.

Ginny blanched. "He was… he's…" she whispered. Elma Tonks rushed to her side and wrapped her arms around Ginny's thin shoulders. "Get off!" she cried, wrenching away from them and staggering from the chair. "Why – why are you _comforting_ me?" she shrieked. "Draco's being _hurt_ – he's being _tortured_ – STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER!" she roared when George tried to hug her.

Everyone in the room was shocked. Ginny did not explode at people. That wasn't how she worked – Ginny snapped and hid her feelings. This open woe was extremely unlike her.

"_Will you stop staring at me like I've grown another head_?" Ginny shouted. "You're all – _argh_!" she balled her hands into fists and stamped her foot; her schoolbag fell from her shoulder and the contents scattered across the floor.

"Miss Weasley, calm down!" barked Professor McGonagall. "I understand your dismay, but attempting to destroy my office is unacceptable!"

"That's easy for you to say!" snarled Ginny. "You're safe in your little office. You haven't got Dark wizards trying to kill you _or _holding your best friend hostage!"

Silence fell. "Ginny," McGonagall addressed the young, fierce witch before her, "the Aurors are getting him. He will be safe soon -"

"_Soon_?" Ginny echoed incredulously. "In two weeks time, you mean. Sorry, but that's _not _what I call soon."

McGonagall decided, very wisely, to ignore this. "Mister Malfoy will be safe soon now that we are aware of his whereabouts. However, he will not be back for some time – and that cannot be changed! Do _not _think that you can get him back sooner by going to rescue him yourself."

"That's Harry's job," Fred chipped in.

Everyone glared at him, save for Ginny, who knew that her older brother was exactly right. She dropped down to the floor and started to scoop up her books with shaking hands, trying to block out the rest of the world.

"Miss Weasley, I forbid you to go after him, do you hear me? Attempting it alone would only end up in you having detentions every night until the day you die," McGonagall said.

Fred, George, Tonks and Ginny stared at her. "God, that's a bit harsh," said Tonks, voicing everyone else's thoughts.

McGonagall flushed pink. "Well, I was trying to make a point!" she said haughtily. "You're dismissed."

Ginny stuffed the last item into her bag, straightened up, embraced her brothers and Tonks, and then departed McGonagall's office. _Stupid! Stupid, stupid, __**stupid**__! How can they just __**sit **__there while Draco is being hurt?!_ Tears stung the corners of her eyes, surprising her; she swiped them away furiously and stormed towards the second storey bathroom, needing to rant on to someone who knew what she was going through.

"Myrtle!" she burst out as she slammed through the doors. She was slinging her bag to the floor when she noticed Luna. Ginny stopped dead. "Luna," she said flatly. "What are you doing here?"

Luna raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know that it was illegal to chat to Myrtle," she said, with a defensive edge to her dreamy tone.

"It – it wasn't – isn't – I mean," Ginny stammered. "I just…"

Myrtle ran her grey eyes over Ginny's face. The distress was apparent in the sixteen-year-old's hazel eyes, and the young ghost flew to her friend. "Ginny – Gin, what's wrong?" she demanded.

"They -" Ginny tried, but her voice shook and she stopped, before starting again. "Myrtle, they're torturing him," she said.

Myrtle and Luna's mouths fell open.

"Bloody hell," Luna whispered.

"You can't be serious," Myrtle gasped.

"I _am_!" Ginny cried. "I'm serious – they're hurting him, and… and I'm not allowed to help him! I'm not allowed to – not… Draco…" she ran forwards and threw her arms around Myrtle's translucent, wispy waist.

Luna seemed uncomfortable. "I'll… I'll just go, then," she mumbled, and headed towards the door.

"No," said Ginny. "I mean… you can stay… if you want." She unwrapped her arms from Myrtle and turned to the Ravenclaw. "I'm sorry, Lu. I've been ignoring you… just because… I couldn't face seeing Harry, Ron or Hermione. They don't understand. They never _do_! All of my time at Hogwarts, when I've had a problem… they just didn't get it."

"I know," said Luna. "That's actually why I came to talk to Myrtle. They didn't understand, and you seemed to be avoiding me. I sometimes visit Myrtle, so I decided to talk to _her_."

Ginny frowned. "What didn't they understand?" she asked.

Luna sighed. "The whole Harry thing," she explained. "Ron was just really keen for me to go out with him, and Hermione… I didn't think she was even _listening_!"

"Let me guess," asked Ginny wryly, "Ancient Runes revision?"

Luna giggled, nodding. The three girls all sighed and went into their own thoughts. After a moment's hush, they all spoke their thoughts at the same time.

Myrtle: "I wonder what Nearly Headless Nick is doing right now."

Luna: "Harry tried to kiss me again. I didn't let him, but I _really _wanted to."

Ginny: "I don't give a damn. I'm going after Draco."

All of this said simultaneously, it came out as: "Iarryonderieddamna Nearlyissoing rilethimow wanted to." The girls looked at each other and stifled laughter.

"Sorry," Luna said, "my contribution didn't really matter."

"Neither did mine," said Myrtle.

"Mine _did_," said Ginny, holding her head high (she still only came up to Luna's shoulders), "and I'll say it again. I don't give a damn if Lord Voldemort's baiting me out – Draco's being tortured, and I don't intend to let him be killed. Forget waiting for Aurors to come as back-up. I'm going to help him."

"I'm coming, too," said Luna instantly, which was astonishing, as she had never been too close to Draco.

"Me, too," declared Myrtle.

Luna grinned. "That's all the back-up we need, then."

**That Night, 10pm**

Wand – check.

Knife – check.

Omniculars – check.

Black clothes – check.

Blood (stolen from Professor Snape's stores) to attract Threstrals – check.

Magical necklace – check.

Dungbombs for a distraction – check.

"Let's roll," Ginny murmured, and, glancing around to ensure that the other sixth-year Gryffindor girls were sleeping, tiptoed to the stairs. Hopefully, no-one would be in the common room so late. She walked into the common room – damn.

"Ginny, where are you going?" Ron asked, pausing his soft stroking of Hermione's hair.

"Er. Nowhere," Ginny said, her hand moving towards the necklace… _come on, invisibility…_ Harry gave her an appraising look. She rolled her eyes. "Well. I am going somewhere. Just to the kitchens. I want to get a glass of warm milk to help me sleep," she lied fluently.

"Why the army gear?" Ron joked.

Hermione's chocolate-latte eyes widened. "Ginny – you're not going after Malfoy, are you?" she gasped. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth, remembering too late that she wasn't supposed to tell about Ginny and Draco's friendship.

Ginny's eyes clouded; though she didn't say anything, her answer was obvious. Seeing as Ron and Harry now knew, she hissed angrily, "You weren't supposed to tell anyone!"

Ron gaped. "Ginny! Why are you going after that big-headed git?" he demanded.

"Leave him alone," Ginny said furiously. "I'm not going after him, anyway, I'm going to the kitchens!"

"_Accio bag_!" Harry said, and Ginny's army bag flew into his hands.

"No!" she exclaimed, reaching for it, but Harry held it out of reach.

"You have a knife… and a vial of – Ginny, is that – _blood_?!" Ron yelled, horror-struck. "What the bloody hell are you playing at?!"

Ginny glared. "None of your business, _Ronald_," she snapped, Summoning her bag back and shouldering it angrily.

"It _is_ my business, _Ginevra_!" Ron responded hotly. "You're my little sister, and my job is to stop you from doing stupid things! _This_, Ginny, is considered a stupid thing!"

"You're going to stop me, are you, Ron?" Ginny retorted. "What are you going to do, then? _Tell mum_?" she taunted. "Ron. Grow up."

Ron's face flushed an angry purple. "NO, Ginny, you're going to learn to behave-"

"LEAVE MY LIFE _ALONE_!" Ginny yelled, drawing her wand swiftly. "_Stupefy_!"

Hermione, Ron and Harry's eyes suddenly lost their focus, and, before they could gather what was happening, Ginny was gone. She fled down the corridor, cursing her own idiocy. _I should have turned invisible before I got the common room, just in case! I need to be less impulsive_. Ginny stole down the grand stairs, and vaguely saw the outline of a girl in the shadows.

"Ginny?" Luna hissed through the gloom.

"Yeah, it's me," Ginny whispered. "Come on, Myrtle's meeting us by the Forest." Needless to say, Ginny was not looking forwards to another meeting in the Forbidden Forest. There had been no news as to whether the chimaera had been taken away, and the thought of being chased by it again terrified her. Then, another memory came.

_Ginny ran out from between two trees, and then the tall, lean, male figure that she had been searching desperately for was there. She collapsed in his warm, strong arms, whimpering hopelessly against his chest, while he murmured, "Ginny," in her ear. "Draco…" she whispered._

Her heart beat faster, and she imagined him bleeding, dying… suddenly the Forest wasn't very scary at all, and she walked faster. Luna and Ginny crept past Hagrid's Hut, with lights dimly glowing through the windows, and saw that Myrtle was already hovering at the edge of the Forest.

"You're late," she said crossly.

"Sorry," Ginny apologized. "I got held up. Harry, Ron and Hermione were in the common room."

Myrtle and Luna grimaced together. "How'd you get rid them of them?" Luna asked interestedly.

"I Stupefied all three of them," said Ginny, a little annoyed. "Now, I _believe _that we have something more important to do?"

"Oh, yeah! Illegally rescuing the boy you love _right _from under the nose of the most evil Death Eaters ever to work in Lord Voldemort's services," Myrtle said sarcastically. "I _can't _wait."

Ginny's face became quickly crimson. "I'm not," she said firmly, pulling the vial of blood from her bag, "in love," she uncorked it, "with Draco." She stooped and emptied the contents all over the leafy floor. "He's my best friend," she corked the vial again, and, upon seeing the looks that Luna and Myrtle were giving her, added hastily, "and okay, yes, maybe I have a crush on him." She rolled her hazel eyes. "Anyway, Myrtle, you didn't have to come if you didn't want to."

"And anyway," Luna added, "I highly doubt that the illegality of our situation is going to be a problem. We're forbidden to save Draco, but we're doing it. We are _also_ forbidden to go into the Forest, but we're _also _standing in it."

"I suppose," Myrtle laughed, and the three girls stood quietly as they waited for the Threstrals to turn up.

"Ginny, did you bring a knife?" Luna questioned as the first Threstral turned up.

"Yes," Ginny replied, scratching the Threstral's nose and holding it still while Luna swung onto its back. "You?"

"Yeah. Here's the second Threstral, by the way," Luna responded.

Ginny patted the horse's leathery neck and then, with some difficulty, since she was a lot shorter than Luna, climbed onto its back. "Isn't it a good thing we can all see Threstrals?" she joked.

Though they chuckled at her comment, it was true. All three girls had seen death – though Myrtle had never seen another die, she herself had died, so seeing the Threstral was natural; Ginny had seen Sirius Black and her uncle Bilius die; and Luna had seen her Sirius, and her mother perish. It was quite a dismal thing to share in common.

"Let's set off, then," said Myrtle, and when the other two gave her odd looks, she smiled sheepishly. "I'm not too good with horses, and I can fly by myself. Anyway, I think that the sooner we set off the better."

"Good idea," said Luna. The Threstral beat its wings and rose into the air, swooping in a broad circle to pick up air. "Let's go!"

Ginny stared at the Threstral. "Come on, then," she said irritably. "Fly. Flap your wings. Do whatever it is that you do to get your big black butt in the air." The Threstral whinnied and pawed at the ground with one hoof. Ginny sat back. "_Luna_!" she hissed, trying to shout without all of Hogwarts hearing her.

Luna and the Threstral dropped down to earth again. "What's wrong, Gin? Let's go."

Ginny bit her lip, embarrassed. Then, she asked awkwardly, "er… Luna… how?"

"How what?"

Ginny sighed, her pride taking a major blow. "How do I make it go?" she asked, mumbling through her destroyed ego.

Luna giggled, and her Threstral trotted towards Ginny's. "Hop onto my Threstral," she said, "and hold on tight," she then addressed Ginny's Threstral, "good boy. You can go home now."

Feeling as though she must be very stupid to not know how to make a horse move, Ginny slid onto the other Threstral, sitting behind Luna, folding her arms tight around the other girl's waist. "Now what?" she questioned.

"Are you holding on tight?" Luna asked calmly. Ginny nodded, but immediately wished she hadn't. With a powerful kick of its hind legs, the Threstral thrust itself into the air. Ginny yelped and held on tighter to Luna, though not actually shouting her head off, as she had the urge to do.

Myrtle floated up into the air beside them, and the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, ghost and Threstral flew away. Ginny squeezed her eyes closed and did not open them until those big, heavy, silvery hooves touched down on the winding dirt path that lead up to the Lestrange castle. She slid off and landed, hard, on her knees.

"Land!" she gasped. "Thank _God_, it's land!"

"Oh, she's _so _dramatic," Myrtle said sardonically.

Ginny huffed, and got to her feet. Then she saw what was sitting before her. It was like something from a horror movie. The dirt road wound and twisted up to the castle; the building itself was tall, thin and slightly skeletal-looking, with too many turrets and slanting windows so that it seemed to be screaming, crying, shouting and laughing all at the same time. A wavering mist was shrouding the lower floors, and a bright, nearly full moon glowed brightly in the sky behind it, bathing the Eastern side of the castle in silver.

"Wow," said Myrtle.

"Wow indeed," said Luna, who wasn't even looking at the castle. She was looking at Ginny. "So, what's the plan?"

Ginny swore silently. She had forgotten that they needed a plan. "Uh…" she looked through the things in her bag, pulled out her Omniculars, and then stared up at the castle. 

_Come on, inspiration, hit me… _Nothing came.

Then she heard it.

Quiet. Barely audible. It was far away, but Ginny's sharp ears picked it up and knew instantly what it was.

A scream.

Luna instinctively grabbed Myrtle's hand and they held onto each other. They looked over at Ginny, but she was staring determinedly at the sinister structure at the top of the path.

_Inspiration… come on…_

There was a tiny window at the bottom of the castle – the basement. That was where Draco would be; that was why he was so faint.

But what to do?

_Inspiration…_

_BINGO._

Ginny swung to face them. "Myrtle," she said, no question in her voice. It was commanding and deadly serious. "You're a distraction."

"What?" Myrtle cried indignantly. "I want to do something _important_!"

"Myrtle! You're doing _the _most important part. Without the distraction, this plan couldn't begin to work," Luna explained. "Plus, I understand Ginny's reasoning. I'm not being tactless about your… _condition_… but, really, Myrtle, you're the only one who can do this. The Lestrange will go after the distraction – and kill her. And they can't if she's -"

"-already dead," finished Myrtle. "Okay, I'll do it."

"I have Dungbombs for that very job, Myr. Take the bag – scatter them wherever you feel like it," Ginny said.

"Me?" Luna asked.

"Luna." Ginny turned to the taller girl. "You're skinnier than me. There's a window to the basement. You're going to smash it from the outside and crawl through. Draco is in the basement. You'll help him through the window and take him back to the Threstral. If you have to, fly away before I get out. I can go with Myrtle."

Luna looked reluctant at the idea of abandoning Ginny, but she nodded. "What about you?"

Ginny replaced her Omniculars back in her bag. "I'm going to get Bellatrix Lestrange," she said.

There was a stunned silence. Then, the fifteen-year-old ghost found her voice. "I thought that I was the distraction," Myrtle implored, looking disappointed.

"You _are_, Myrtle. But the Lestranges are smart and ruthless. They won't leave Draco unaccompanied when people are ambushing their castle. Rodolphus, doubtlessly, will go to the see the distraction – that's you, Myrtle. Bellatrix will stay behind to make sure that no-one takes Draco – foiling Luna's part. I'm going to sneak past Rodolphus and lure Bellatrix out of the basement so that Luna can rescue Draco. Then," said Ginny dramatically, "we run for our lives."

Myrtle took a deep breath. "Sounds good," she said, taking the bag of Dungbombs.

"I'm a genius," replied Ginny sarcastically. She had to say something witty, say _anything_ to cover her immense fear. "Myrtle – got your Dungbombs? Luna – ready to haul a wounded seventeen-year-old Slytherin through a miniscule window?"

They nodded. Ginny took a deep breath. "Let's roll."

**A/N:** Sorry about splitting up this chapter. But it's SUCH an ehhhhh sort of chapter, and I couldn't skip to Draco, because that would just be boring, it'd be like: Draco was screaming. He heard shouts. What was happening? "Oh hi Luna. Let's run away."

No offence, but that sounds like a CRAPPY chapter. Anywho. Please review. (And don't ask what "ehhhh" is supposed to mean.)


	36. To Be Insane

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Late February. This is another REALLY long chapter, sorry. It's an exciting one, though. The plan is put into action, and Ginny confesses to herself something that she never thought she was even capable of. This chapter is a little weird, because instead of being from ONE person's point of view (i.e. Ginny or Draco) it is instead from FOUR people's alternating points of view. I am also going to warn you that this chapter has some language. Enjoy!

**DEDICATION: I've never done a dedication before, so bear with me on this. I'm dedicating this chapter to three lovely people: Oceane, my best friend. And then to MissDedodakes and BestDreamer, who have pratically been reviewing me from the very first chapter. I love you all and thankyouh! (Yes, thankyouh has an 'H'.)**

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Thirty-Six: To Be Insane**_

_**DRACO, GINNY, LUNA AND MYRTLE**_

"_I'm a genius," replied Ginny sarcastically. She had to say something witty, say anything to cover her immense fear. "Myrtle – got your Dungbombs? Luna – ready to haul a wounded seventeen-year-old Slytherin through a miniscule window?"_

_They nodded. Ginny took a deep breath. "Let's roll."_

…

Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Myrtle Tristanebury sprinted up the dirt path (after tethering the Threstral to a nearby aspen tree), all clenching their wands determinedly and staring defiantly at the castle ahead, the Muggle street-lamps picking out the tiredness on their weary faces. As they reached the tall, wrought-iron gates with the _L_ for Lestrange twisted into the bars, they all paused to gather their breath – and their courage.

"Ready to go?" Luna asked kindly.

Ginny didn't speak; she nodding, gripping her wand tighter. She felt about as ready as a wrongly-convicted criminal would on his walk to the electric chair.

In other words, she felt positively sick.

However, Ginny didn't share these feelings. She was supposed to be the brave, fiery leader who wasn't scared of anything. It was a very hard appearance to keep up, and as she cast the Immoblising spell on the gates, she fought to keep her small hands from shaking.

Now Immobilised, the gates could not alert a warning to the Lestrange household as the three teenagers forced it open and slipped silently through. "Right. Luna, the window is around _that _way," Ginny said, pointing, "give me your wand for a second… euphius!"

"Thanks," said Luna, taking back her wand and inspecting it.

"Now, when I speak into my wand… you'll hear it, and then you break into the basement. Got it?" Ginny asked. Then she took Myrtle's wand. "Euphius," she muttered. "Right, Myrtle, when you've gotten Rodolphus Lestrange away from the basement, say 'euralia Ginny' and then your message. Then I can go in and get Bellatrix away."

"You're _insane_," said Myrtle flatly. "Pure bloody _insane_."

"If I wasn't," said Ginny dryly, "then this whole plan would probably never work."

Luna and Myrtle nodded. "We're all insane. It's agreed. I'll go in first, then," Myrtle said, and she floated up to the castle, gliding through the thick, mahogany doors.

"Luna, get into position," Ginny said, "you'll be hearing from me soon. _Remember_ – if I'm not out of the castle two minutes after you are, or if you're being chased, _get the bloody hell away from the castle_. Just get on the Threstral and ride back to Hogwarts. Get Hagrid, he'll know what to do. I'll come back with Myrtle."

Luna nodded again, and scurried away. Ginny tried to push bad, unhelpful thoughts from her head.

"_Miss Weasley, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named intends to kill you."_

"_I am merely worried for your sake that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is doing this on purpose – drawing you out of safety by kidnapping one of your closest friends in the hope that we, quite sensibly, would deny you from going, and that you would go to rescue him by yourself."_

Professor McGonagall's words rang through Ginny's head repeatedly, but she ignored it, and followed the path up to the grand doors. As she waited in the shadow of an oak tree, she heard it again, making her blood run cold.

"PLEASE! _PLEASE, STOP IT_! _**NO**_!"

Ginny's hands began to shake, and she grabbed the amulet to give her courage. She suddenly noticed a pool of black water, which seemed to be swirling. She stepped closer to it and peered inside. Though it was deadly dark, the water was totally transparent, and, at the bottom, Ginny could clearly see the shattered remains of a mirror she knew very well.

_The Mirror of Erised._ It was smashed, and in a thousand pieces… but did it still worked. Ginny glanced over her shoulder, checking that it wasn't her time to go yet, and then stared into the water. What she was surprised her incredibly. There was a reflection of herself, gazing in awe at the mirror, and then, behind her, his arms twined around her waist, was… not Harry, not Roger Davies, not Alan Levent, not even Orlando Bloom… but Draco. Astounded, Ginny staggered away, trying to comprehend what she had seen.

Then, she heard shouting, and a ridiculous taunting voice that Ginny had heard many times over the year. Myrtle was putting the plan into action.

**Luna**

She ran across the lawn, holding her wand out in front of her so that the dim light it gave off would help her to see the window intended. Wrong window… wrong window… _where is it!?!_

Luna heard a rough, male voice shouting, and a thin, female voice teasing and calling out. Myrtle was in the building. _Come on, I have to find the window __**now**_, she thought desperately. _There! _A tiny window, weak on the outside, but barred and heavily protected on the inside. She ran to it, and crouched there, peering through.

"PLEASE!" He was screaming, curled up on the floor. Luna shuddered uncontrollably as she saw the puddle of blood that Draco lay in. "_PLEASE_, STOP IT! …PLEASE…please… _no_!"

"Don't worry, Draco," Luna whispered to him, hoping that he would know that help was on its way. "We're here! We're coming!" her voice broke into a little sob, but she glared defiantly at Bellatrix Lestrange and held her wand tighter.

**Myrtle**

"Come on, come on, _stupid_," Myrtle yelled, picking up an expensive-looking vase and hurling it at the big, beefy man in front of her. "Bring it on! You couldn't hurt a _Puffskein_!"

"SHUT UP!" Rodolphus bellowed. "I'll rip you limb from limb – _crucio_!"

Myrtle yelped and ran up the curving stairs. She had to pretend that she was alive and vunerable, otherwise Rodolphus would give up and go back to the basement. "Is that all you've got?" she hollered from the banister, ripping off the wood and lobbing at him. "BRING IT ON!"

_Come on, up the stairs… you __**have **__to come up the stairs! We're running out of time… Draco could be dying downstairs!_

"You big, ugly brute! You may have the _looks _of a savage murderer, but to be a killer you also need a _brain_, which I'm sorry to say you're _lacking_!" Myrtle shouted. "Your wife is the dominant one! _She's _one to be scared of! But _**you**_ Puh-_lease_! A Billywig's more macho than _you _are!"

"HOW DARE YOU MOCK ME! _AVADA KEDAVRA_!" Rodolphus roared from the bottom of the stairs.

The flash of green light rushing towards her was strangely thrilling to Myrtle, and she wanted to laugh. However, she kept up the pretence, and screamed loudly, dodging. "Missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me!" she taunted over the banister. She picked up a chair and tossed it down, shattering the expensive dining room table. "OOPS! Did _I _do that?"

Rodolphus snarled and shot more curses at Myrtle. _Finally, _he was coming up the stairs! "You're going to wish you had never been born when I get to you!" he howled.

"Oh, _really_?" Myrtle asked boldly. She picked up another chair and threw it. This time, it hit Rodolphus, knocking his legs out from under him and pushing him down the stairs with a bang. "Come ON, man! You're getting beaten by a fifteen-year-old _girl_!" she yelled.

Rodolphus let out a roar of anger and flew up the stairs, beaten and bloody, grazes covering his free skin. "I'LL GET YOU, LITTLE BITCH!" he screamed.

_BINGO! We have him __**upstairs**_!!

Before the madman reached her, Myrtle grabbed her wand and whispered into it, "Euralia Ginny – the bulldog is _up _the stairs!"

**Ginny**

She could hear a lot of shouting and smashing. Though Ginny couldn't see it, she had to admit that it sounded like Myrtle was doing an excellent job of a distraction. However, she was sick with nerves, and was singing quietly to keep herself under control. Then, suddenly, her wand lit up, twirled mid-air and said in Myrtle's voice, "The bulldog is _up _the stairs!"

Feeling as though she wanted nothing better than to fall over and vomit, Ginny took a deep breath, grabbed her necklace, snatched her wand from the air and turned to the doors. "Alohamora," she told it. The door flashed blue, and then the invisible sixteen-year-old redhead pushed through it.

"_PLEASE! __**STOP IT**_**!"**

All nerves disappeared from Ginny's body. She stormed through the destroyed dining room, wand held aloft. "Point me," she said, "_Draco_." Her wand twirled on her open palm and the tip faced the direction of a little side-door. She moved swiftly towards it and tore the door open. A set of narrow stairs arched and twisted out of sight, and the screaming grew louder.

"Sonorus," Ginny said through gritted teeth. Then she bellowed as she ran down the stairs, "Hey, bitch!"

There was a stunned silence at the bottom, only broken by a tragic whimpering that tore Ginny's insides to pieces. She stood at the bottom steps of the stairs. All she could see was red-stained wooden table, several bloody chains, and a tall, furious dark-haired woman. "Who's there?" snapped Bellatrix.

"Your worst nightmare," Ginny said, still not revealing herself. "IMPENDENTIA!" she cried. Red flashed from her wand, and Bellatrix was knocked backwards, onto the table.

"REVEAL YOURSELF!" Bellatrix snarled, spitting a globule of blood onto the stone floor.

Ginny had done this before. She looked down, up through her hair, and then touched the necklace.

Bellatrix sharply in took her breath. The silhouette of a small figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs. All that was visible was unnaturally bright, flaming crimson hair, penetrating eyes and a glowing wand-tip, pointed at Bellatrix' heart. "Your worst nightmare," Ginny said, fatally gentle.

"I know you – you're that Weasley girl!" Bellatrix snapped. Then she sneered, "how lovely. We don't have to _look_ to kill you now – you've presented yourself to us!"

"NO!" Draco's voice screamed from inside the room. "PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP – _PLEASE_!"

Ginny saw a growing pool of blood from the corner of her eye and her eyes narrowed. "I'm not here to give myself up, Lestrange… though, if you want me…" she hissed. "COME GET IT!" She grabbed the necklace, disappeared, and ran up the stairs, making sure to thump her feet loudly on each step so that Bellatrix knew where she was.

"_What the devil_? GET BACK HERE!" Bellatrix screeched. "CRUCIO!"

The beam of blue light bounced off the stone walls, reflecting _around _the arch, chasing Ginny… _"No!" _she yelped, darting away. The spell crashed into the floor, missing her by inches. Then, spinning. "Come _get _it!"

Bellatrix appeared at the foot of the stairs, Ginny at the head. Both had their wands pointed. "You ready for this?" Bellatrix sneered. "Don't worry, _darling_ – death is only _agony_…"

"CRUCIO!"

"CONFRINGO!"

The air crackled with electricity as both spells hit the walls. The stone exploded and fell down, missing both of them and landing messily in between.

"You'll have to do better than that," Ginny snarled. "_Perriculum_!" Red sparks flew from her wand, hitting Bellatrix in the chest.

The older woman stumbled down a few stairs, waving her wand madly. "SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Ginny shrieked and pressed herself flat against the wall. Three of the seven slashings missed – four met their targets. Blood seeped through her sliced clothing, between Ginny's splayed fingers as she tried uselessly to keep her body intact. She gripped her wand and flailed it at Bellatrix. "_Stupefy_," she growled.

Bellatrix flared up a Shield charm in time, but the impact of the spell hitting her shield still knocked her back. While Bellatrix was getting back to her feet, Ginny hissed into her wand, "Euralia Luna – _go __**now**__!"_

**Luna**

She saw Ginny appear at the foot of the stairs and gasped. "No, she's going to be killed!" Bellatrix and Ginny duelled at the bottom of the stairs for a moment or two, before they both started fighting further up the stairs. "Come on, Gin, _hurry_!" Luna urged.

Then, her wand squeaked loudly, lit up and hissed, "_Go __**now**__!"_

"On it," Luna said, and stepped back from the window. "Brace yourself, Malfoy. _CONFRINGO_!"

The window and bars shattered in an explosion of glass and metal; Luna covered her face, waiting for Bellatrix or anyone else to notice that their basement was just partially blown up. No-one came, and, with a kiss to her wand and a touch of her gold socks for good luck, Luna crouched and began the rescue mission.

**Draco**

_Her harsh, high-pitched screams were still audible, amplified a thousand times, it seemed. He couldn't hide away from it. She was writhing, twisting horribly in the dirt, crying out in her death throes. Her hair was coming loose from its neat ponytail, hair flying over her distorted face. Now came something that Draco had not seen before: a Muggle knife._

"NO!" Draco screamed. "_PLEASE, SAVE HER_!" he twisted. The spell was suddenly gone, Bellatrix was talking to someone, probably Rodolphus, it didn't matter, Ginny was being hurt –

_Ginny screamed as blood bubbled from her mouth and she staggered backwards, bleeding, screaming, dying, her neck at a very strange angle –_

"PLEASE, STOP IT!" Blood was dripping from his hair, blood was dripping from the fresh chain-wounds all over his skinny, under-fed body. "_**STOP IT**_!"

_She was everywhere, screaming, thrashing, bleeding, weeping…_

"SAVE HER, PLEASE! DON'T MAKE ME!" he howled, and then suddenly the world exploded. Glass and metal were showering him, slicing his skin, the pain was terrible, but not as bad as –

_She was writhing, twisting horribly in the dirt, crying out in her death throes. Her hair was coming loose from its neat ponytail, hair flying over her distorted face. Now came something that Draco had not seen before: a Muggle knife. But then she and Macbain were in front of him as well, and he was watching her squirm in pain. _

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Draco screeched. "JUST KILL ME, _PLEASE_!"

There was a soft thump, and then someone was crouching beside him. He couldn't see the person through the blood on his face and the swimming images of Ginny…

"DON'T HURT ME!" he screamed, it must be Bellatrix.

"Oh, dear God, please, Draco, don't scream, shush," said the voice. It was softer, sweeter, and desperately concerned. "Come on, we're getting you out of here."

Draco sucked in a breath of shock and gagged on his own blood. "Don't hurt her, please – _leave me ALONE_!" he screamed, twisting away from Bellatrix.

"Draco, no – I'm not Bellatrix. Trust me, we're hear to help you," the voice said kindly. "Come on, we have to go, come on, now."

"Who… who are you?" Draco croaked. He didn't want anything or anyone, he just wanted death… a female face, soft and caring, was floating over him, looking deathly worried. "Is that… Ginny?"

_She was writhing, twisting horribly in the dirt, crying out in her death throes. Her hair was coming loose from its neat ponytail, hair flying over her distorted face. Now came something that Draco had not seen before: a Muggle knife. But then she and Macbain were in front of him as well, and he was watching her squirm in pain. _

"No, it's not Ginny, it's -"

"GET OUT! _GINNY_, GET OUT! NO, THEY'LL KILL - _NO! __**PLEASE**_**!" **he screamed again, writhing in Ginny's arms. _Hey, Ginny's gotten taller…_

"Draco! It's not Ginny… it's Luna," said the voice urgently. "Ginny's here too, but don't worry, she's…" a pause, "safe. I think. We have to go _now_. Are you strong enough to stand?"

"Luna, Luna," Draco sobbed breathlessly. "Get Ginny out – please, kill me – get Ginny out – _kill me! __**JUST LEAVE ME ALONE**_**!"**

_She was writhing, twisting horribly in the dirt, crying out in her death throes. Her hair was coming loose from its neat ponytail, hair flying over her distorted face. Now came something that Draco had not seen before: a Muggle knife. But then she and Macbain were in front of him as well, and he was watching her squirm in pain. _

"Shush!" Luna reprimanded him desperately. "Bellatrix will hear – and if she hears us, she'll… she'll kill Ginny!" she said suddenly.

"No," Draco wept. "I'll… I'll stay quiet, I swear…" Then Luna was helping him up, and they staggered across the room.

**Luna**

"Come on, Draco," she urged, and she pushed him up through the window. His blood was dripping all over her, but that didn't matter. She had to save him. The jagged edges of the windows were tearing at his skin – _oh God, oh God, he's too big_, she panicked – but then he was through. Lightly, with the perfection of years of gymnastics, Luna leapt up and scrambled through. "Let's go."

She slid an arm under his armpits and half-supported, half-dragged him through the garden. "Draco… Draco, listen to me, you have to walk on your own for a bit, I have to tell Ginny that you're safe."

"Get her out… _please_!" he moaned desolately, clinging to Luna's robes. However, he seemed to remember Luna's lie about keeping quiet, and, sobbing to himself, he staggered away a few steps before falling into the long grass.

"Oh hell," Luna swore, "er… euralia Ginny and Myrtle – I have Draco, repeat, I _have _Draco. Get back to the Threstral," she said hurriedly into her wand, and then hastened to haul Draco out of the garden. After what seemed like a lifetime of mumbling, crying and tiny screams, they were stumbling down the winding Muggle path to where the Threstral was tethered.

"Good boy," said Luna, partially to the Threstral and partially to Draco. Then she helped the Slytherin onto the horse's big back, and told Draco comfortingly, "Don't worry, Draco, don't panic, Ginny's coming."

Draco cried into the Threstral's mane, and Luna felt close to crying too. She had abandoned her best friends to the wrath of two Death Eaters.

**Ginny**

"Get back," Ginny snarled. "_Stupefy, confringo_!"

Bellatrix dodged both, and from the malicious grin on the female Death Eater's face, she knew what was coming. Ginny forgot the fight; she turned on her heel and raced up the stairs… _GO!_ Her brain screamed again and again…

"CRUCIO!"

It hit Ginny in the spine, and she fell forwards, smashing her chin on the hard stairs. She cried out, but the pain in her chin was _nothing_ compared to what followed – her skin was being shredded into a million pieces. As she screamed, curled up on the floor, her wand fell out of her pocket and lit up.

"I have Draco, repeat, I _have _Draco. Get back to the Threstral!" Luna's voice said urgently. Ginny gasped, trying to get her wand, but the _pain_… she screamed, sliding down the steps until she was resting at Bellatrix' feet.

The older witch looked horrified. "That's what you were doing!" she shrieked. "_You've taken our hostage_! DOLPHUS!"

Myrtle came flying through the door. "Ginny, we have to go! They've got – oh. _Shit_." She saw the situation, and her mouth fell open.

"Shit, indeed!" snarled Bellatrix. "So this was your plan, eh? This fat bitch gets my husband, red bitch gets me, and skinny bitch climbs through the window to steal Malfoy. Well done, girls. It actually _almost _worked." She turned to Rodolphus. "Dolph. Do the honours."

Rodolphus raised his wand – "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he roared, pointing at Myrtle.

Myrtle burst out laughing as the magic flowed through her. "That _tickled_! Do it again," she teased, batting her eyelashes behind her glasses.

"What the hell? She's – _avada kedavra_! Bella, she's -"

"Dead?" Myrtle offered. "Well done. Took you long enough," she sneered.

"Now, see, ghosty, the thing is… you may be dead. But the Weasley isn't… however, that's all about to change…" Bellatrix cackled, and she finally pulled off the Cruciatus curse.

Ginny's screaming stopped, and, beaded with sweat and tears, she stared fearfully up at the long, sinister-looking piece of wand pointed at her face. _Think happy thoughts_, Ginny instructed herself. _Remember that promise you made? You're going to die smiling. Think happy thoughts…_

_Ginny was spinning under his arm, her own arm stretched upwards to almost its full extent, her skirt flaring around her knees, and then her journey across the dance floor came to abrupt halt and Draco caught her, his head lightly clapping her back, and then they were dancing, closer than ever, their bodies flush of each other._

The smallest of smiles flickered across Ginny's face, and then, as she looked up at Bellatrix, she whispered, "Thank you."

Bellatrix frowned. "What the hell? Stupid girl, I'm going to _kill _you – you don't thank me, you plead for your life!" she snarled, obviously furious at the lack of dramatics.

"No, sorry, Bellatrix… I'm thanking you… I wouldn't have wanted to die any other way – I'm dying to save the person I… _love_," she whispered the last word, as she realized how true it was.

**Myrtle**

She stared at Ginny. _No. No, you were going to live forever. You can't die – I won't… I won't let you… _Myrtle glanced sideways at Rodolphus and Bellatrix, then, lifting her wand, she hissed, "euralia Luna. _Go! Now, go, they're coming for Draco! Rodolphus is coming!_" She stared down at the redhead, wondering what to do.

BRAINWAVE.

Myrtle whispered, "Ginny," and then instructions.

Ginny began to raise one hand, as if reaching into the light for her death. _Perfect_. Bellatrix raised her wand, and instantly Myrtle raised her own. All as one spell, Myrtle yelled, "ACCIO WAND SHOUSAMNA ALARIC," reached forwards, grabbed Ginny's hand, and then, with a flash of light, they were gone.

**Draco**

"Where is she?" asked Draco. Now that he was sure that no-one was going to hurt him, he was staring up at the skeletal castle. It seemed so long ago that he had been dancing with Ginny, happy and safe.

"I don't know, Draco, but she'll be fine," Luna reassured him, and opened her mouth to say more when her pocket lit up.

"What's that?" Draco asked, moving away from it nervously.

"Calm down," Luna told him soothingly, but she was trembling as she drew her wand. It spun in the air, and then Myrtle's anguished voice hissed, "_Go! Now! They're coming for Draco! Rodolphus is coming!_" Luna paled. "Budge up," she ordered Draco, and she swung onto the Threstral behind him. "Yah!" she cried, and then the Threstral was rising into the air.

It was frightening, but cogs were turning in Draco's head. "Wait," he said urgently, "w-where's Ginny?"

Luna stiffened. She didn't speak.

"Luna, _where's Ginny_?" Draco demanded. "My God – you're not actually going to _leave _ her-"

_Blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death –_

"I'm not going without her!" Draco shouted. "No – _NO _– Luna, you haven't – not – _no _– land this stupid creature – _GINNY_!" he clawed at the air, trying to reach desperately for the castle, as if he could pick up Ginny with one hand and carry her away. "Take us _back_! We can't _leave _her there – I went through so much for her and _you've left her to die_!"

_He pounded his fists against the dome as he sobbed hopelessly, clawing at the barrier. "Let me through," he pleaded to Macbain; the other Death Eater ignored Draco and pretended that he couldn't see him. It was shredding him to pieces… he couldn't take it anymore, and screamed, "__**YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T HURT HER**__!"_

"_You said you wouldn't hurt her_!" Draco hollered, writhing madly on the Threstrals back.

"STOP IT!" Luna snapped. "You're going to get us _both _killed!" she wrestled his arms behind him and held him still while he screamed.

"_GET AWAY FROM HER_!" Draco screamed into the night.

_Blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death._

"PLEASE, STOP IT!" he begged. The castle disappeared from view as the Threstral flew quickly from the Lestrange grounds. The time dragged past as Draco yelled, until, out of the corner of his eyes he saw the castle again. "LET ME IN!" he cried. "I HAVE TO SAVE HER!"

"Draco, it's _Hogwarts_!" Luna told him, "stop worrying."

"GINNY!" he screamed. "NO – I'M NOT – _STOP IT_ –" Blood, dripping down her face, blank, staring eyes. Draco dug his fingernails into her face – _any _pain to stop the visions in his head – _Ginny gasped and choked on blood_ – "MAKE IT STOP!" – _she screamed and writhed _– "WE HAVE TO SAVE HER!"

He could vaguely hear voices – then he blacked out.

**Luna**

She steered the Threstral to Hagrid's Hut expertly. She could see Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall, Snape, Harry, Ron and Hermione all gathered there, looked terribly worried. Luna landed there and slid off. "Madam Pomfrey, you need to help Draco," she told the elderly matron. "He's been tortured."

Draco was still screaming. Finally he shut up – and keeled sideways off of the Threstral. Smelling blood, the black horse eagerly began to lick Draco. "No – good boy, good boy, come on, back to the Forest, I'll bring you some meat tomorrow, you've been very good," Luna told him, and smacked the Threstral's rump. It neighed loudly and cantered into the darkness.

Luna ran to Draco's side and crouched there. "Oh, will he be alright?" she pleaded with Madam Pomfrey.

"WHERE'S MY SISTER?" bellowed a male voice, and Ron Weasley pulled Luna's shoulder back harshly.

"OW – hang _on_, Ronald, I'm busy, Draco's dying -" Luna snapped, losing her nerve. Hermione joined the younger girl at the Slytherin's side, and together they peered anxiously into his face.

"Mione, what are you doing?" Ron snapped. "He's obviously faking – and I want to know where Ginny is!"

"HE'S NOT FAKING AND GINNY IS WITH MYRTLE!" Luna roared, astonishing everyone, including herself. She returned her gaze to the gaunt, sickly boy collapsed in the grass.

"Myrtle?" Harry echoed incredulously.

"Yes, she's a ghost who lives in the second floor girls' toilets," Luna said sharply. She nervously felt Draco's forehead. "He's freezing – get me a blanket and a warming potion." Snape and Hagrid strode away.

"I will when you tell me where Ginny is!" Ron snarled.

"I wasn't even talking to you, Ronald!" Luna retorted, taking a blanket from Hagrid and folding it over Draco.

"_Where the bloody hell is my sister_?"

"RON! Don't talk to her like that!"

"I'll talk to her how I like – anyway, why do you care how I talk to Loony? She's not your girlfriend," Ron argued. Hermione shot him a dark, don't-you-dare-go-there-Ronald-Weasley look, which the redhead in question chose to ignore.

"DON'T CALL HER LOONY!" Harry shouted.

McGonagall pushed through the fighting. "BOYS! Silence, that is a detention for both of you! Miss Lovegood, where is Miss Weasley?" she said concernedly. "I _warned_ hernot to do this, I _forbade _her to do this. So what does she do? She does it."

"Professor, she's with the ghost, Moaning Myrtle. They're travelling by the ghost network," Luna said, not looking up from Draco.

"Rubeus," McGonagall said, "go get a ghost – any ghost, just not Peeves – and tell them to look out for a young female transported one of the Living through the network." Hagrid nodded, and jogged away, each of his footfalls causing the ground to tremble.

"Now what?" asked Hermione fearfully.

"Now, Miss Granger, we wait."

**A/N:** Sorry about splitting up this chapter. But it's so exciting that I COULDN'T let it just end, and the next chapters are normal, starting with Ginny. Please review, I hope you liked it.

I'd also like to let the public know how much of a geek I am. I research **every** name or spell that I make up. For example, Myrtle's last name (never mentioned in the books) is Tristanebury, because the name Tristan means 'sad'. Euphius and Euralia both mean 'speak'. Shousamna Alaric, the spell that Myrtle uses to get through the Ghost Network, which I cunningly invented for ghostly beings to travel, comes from Shou and Amna, which both mean 'fly' and Alaric, which means 'safety'. Anywho. Moving on… -brandishes Christmas-coloured candycanes- If you read this far, well done, you get a candy-cane!! I LUFF YOU.

And, yes, I did steal a quote from Pirates of the Caribbean. "You're insane" – "if I wasn't, then this would probably never work" is, of course, the words of the AMAZING Cap'n Jack Sparrow.


	37. Fire and Ice

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Late February. RAHH! I had you all anticipated, didn't I? Hehe. Anyway, here's the chapter you wanted. Be warned, there is moderate language. Ginny confesses

HOORAY EVERYBODY! The wait is over! THE MOMENT BETWEEN GINNY AND DRACO HAS ARRIVED! (even though, technically Draco's asleep and unable to notice.) Enjoy!

**DEDICATION: Yay! Another dedication. This is dedicated to Remus Lupin, who would have been so much better off marrying me than Tonks. Oh well. I suppose that's life.**

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Fire and Ice**_

_**GINNY**_

"_Rubeus," McGonagall said, "go get a ghost – any ghost, just not Peeves – and tell them to look out for a young female transported one of the Living through the network." Hagrid nodded, and jogged away, each of his footfalls causing the ground to tremble._

"_Now what?" asked Hermione fearfully._

"_Now, Miss Granger, we wait."_

…

Ginny was swirling through an abyss of grey, white, black – and, most frightening, the stark red of blood. The only thing anchoring her to life was the touch of Myrtle's transparent hand. She was so very… _very_… tired.

"Don't fall asleep, Ginny," Myrtle's voice said, sounding strangely distant. "That's death acting on you. If you fall asleep, you don't wake up. _Ever_." The ghost held Ginny's hand tighter, nearly cutting off circulation so that the sixteen-year-old couldn't sleep.

"_Ohmigod_! It's _Nick_!" Myrtle suddenly hissed. "Oh _no_, I've just been fighting evil, I bet that I look a _mess_!"

Despite Myrtle's pincer-grip, Ginny was drifting to sleep. She barely heard this comment… she just wanted to sleep… _forever_… her body ached from torture, heart-ache and duelling… sleep…

"Miss Weasley, as I assume Myrtle has already informed you, you would do well _not _to slumber in the Realm of the Dead. Hold on tight, now, we're nearly there," said a calm, collected, man's voice.

The world spun, faster and faster and faster – then Ginny was hurled out into the real world. She saw the green of the ground and the black of the sky, and then she was thudding into the grass, face-down with a painful thump. "Ow," she mumbled, forgetting her weariness.

"GINNY!" Ron ran forwards and hugged her tight. "When I heard that you'd been _abandoned_," he glared at Luna, "with the Lestranges… I was so worried." He kissed the top of her head. Ginny knew that she was dirty and bloody, and couldn't imagine how Ron could stand the taste of her hair.

"Oh, Ginny," Harry said gratefully, and he and Hermione hugged her too. Ginny withstood the embraces impatiently for a moment, before shrugging them off and running to Draco.

"Ohmigod, where is he, where is he?" Ginny said. Professor McGonagall and Hagrid and the Golden Trio were crowding around her, but she fought her way past them and crouched beside Draco. "Ohh my God…" she whispered. "Draco…" His face was bruised, there were tiny, bloody half-moons decorating his faces that looked like cuts from fingernails being dug in, his bare back was laced with deep, copiously bleeding wounds, and he was totally, utterly still. "He's – he's _hurt_," she choked out. Her small hand found his wounded, bloody one, and she held him tightly.

"Ginny," Ron urged softly in her ear, "come on, we have to go back up to Gryffindor tower. Let's go, you need to rest."

"No," said Ginny defiantly as Snape, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey lifted Draco onto the stretcher they had Summoned.

"_What_?" Ron echoed. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean that I'm not coming," Ginny said. "I'm going with Draco."

"But Ginny -" Hermione started, a disapproving look in her eyes.

"Gin, he doesn't _matter_! Let's -" Ron began, but he was cut off fiercely.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Ginny said, her voice low and dangerously fierce. "I got up in the middle of the night. I travelled half-way across England on the back of a _horse_ – I'm terrified of horses, Ron, and you know that. When I got there, I was cursed, hexed, jinxes. Ronald, I was _tortured_. I was nearly killed. All to save _his_," she pointed furiously at Draco, "life."

She took a step closer to her brother, glaring at him. "Do you _really _think that he doesn't _matter_ to me? I've done all of that with only Luna and Myrtle to accompany me. If you were anxious for my safety, then you should have come too!"

"Ginny, that's not the point -"

"Yes, Ron, it is!" Ginny interrupted sharply. "Just because all that _you_ care about is Quidditch and yourself, doesn't mean that we're all the same." Satisfied with her speech, she turned on her heel and jogged after Draco.

When they reached the Hospital Wing, Ginny tried to stay at the wounded Slytherin's side, but privacy curtains were drawn around him, and she was forced into a bed on the other side of the ward. "But – Madam Pomfrey – I really don't – but -" Ginny struggled, but she was so tired… she was snoring before the Sleep-Aid Potion even got to her.

…

The sunrise was spreading pink through her eyelashes. Ginny opened her eyes groggily. There was an abandoned goblet of Sleep-Aid Potion on her bedside, along with a vase of wilting crocuses and a small handmirror.. The Hospital Wing with dimly light from the sun's pale orange-pink light, and she could just make out the other beds. Luna was in one, fast asleep, and there were other people that Ginny did not recognize.

She picked up the hand mirror and inspected her reflection. Her hair had been scraped back from her face to get at her wounds, making her look like some sort of horrific dummy. Huge plasters were under her chin from where she had smashed her face into Bellatrix' basement stairs; stitches travelled across her features. Her hand was in a cast, and bandadges were weaving across her chest, stomach and thighs underneath her clothes.

"Wow. And Jaqi thought I was ugly _before _I nearly got myself killed," Ginny commented cynically. She tugged off the hairband, letting her muddy, blood-stained hair swing in front of her face – it felt weird with her face so exposed.

There was suddenly a loud, pained moan. Ginny turned to see where it had come from and saw the hideous floral curtains. "Draco," she gasped. In her tiredness, she had almost forgotten him. In a flash, she was out of bed and running across the Wing, limping as her sore, bare feet touched the icy floor tiles.

"Draco?"

She paused outside of the curtains. He was mumbling to himself… then he suddenly cried out. "No! _Please_, no!"

Ginny slipped through the curtains and moved quickly to his side. He looked better than he had last night. He, too, was covered in stitches, but, unlike Ginny, he was covered in far bandages, each one tinged red with the blood that still seeped through. However, he was awfully thin, and what skin could be seen through the blood caked onto his body was deadly pale, almost grey.

"No," Draco groaned. "Please – _NO_!" he screamed in his sleep. His eyes were moving frantically under his eyelids. He was obviously going through the Hell that the Lestranges made for him in his nightmares all over again, and Ginny wanted to help him, but she didn't know how.

"Draco – Draco, sshh, it's okay," she said desperately.

He was twisting and writhing under his bedclothes, but this moved his injuries and only made it worse.

"Draco," she whispered. "It's okay, I'm here." She sat gingerly on the edge of his bed and took his hand – it was beaded with a cold sweat, and Ginny felt her heart going out to him for everything that had happened. "Sshh, I'm here, it's alright, Draco," she repeated, her voice quiet and comforting.

Gradually Draco's frantic breathing slowed down and his screams turned to faint, helpless whimpering like a hurt puppy. "Please…" he whispered, clenching his bedsheets unconsciously with his free hand.

"There, there… calm down… it's okay," Ginny said softly. She reached up her other hand and smoothed Draco's tousled, dirty hair from his face. As she reassured the sleeping boy, she was unaware of the many eyes watching her through the crack in the curtains. Square spectacles, black-onyx, protuberant grey, and elderly matron glasses gazed at the heart-warming sight, before closing the curtains firmly and returning to their beds (they had been awoken by the shouting).

"Luna," asked Professor McGonagall thoughtfully, straightening her spectacles, "you're friends with Ginny. Is there anything… _between_ Miss Weasley and Mister Malfoy?"

"Yes," Luna nodded, raking a hand through the ends of her blonde hair. "They're best friends and have been almost all year."

"I mean… _more _than best friends…?" McGonagall asked. Professor Snape's dark eyes narrowed dangerously as he listened to the conversation.

"I don't know," said Luna with a shrug. "I'll ask her. Perhaps." She climbed back into her bed, and with a dreamy, "'Night Professors," fell asleep almost immediately. Snape drew his cloak tighter around him and swept cantankerously from the Wing with a quiet, "Hmph!" of displeasure. McGonagall eyed the male Professor's exit, watched Miss Lovegood curl up, snoring contently, and then followed Madam Pomfrey back to the staff beds in the other room, where they could keep an eye on the unwell students.

"Stop… please… _no_…" Draco said, shivering. He twitched again, and his breathing quickened.

"No, Draco, it's okay… you're not with the Lestranges… you're with _me_, Ginny, and you're safe… it's okay, Draco," Ginny said gently, stroking his tangled hair. She moved her thumb and, smiling softly at him, stroked his cold, slightly clammy cheek. "It's okay…"

Draco murmured, "Ginny…" and then, surprising her, leaned into her touch, laying his head against her hand. The tiniest of smiles graced her cut lips as she looked fondly at him. She remembered what she had said at the Lestrange castle… and it was true, she now realized.

_Ginny stared at Malfoy. She'd never heard him confess to anything, especially not to being scared. She, again, didn't know what to say. The quiet, sarky, I-won't-tell-you-anything, friendless, allegedly emotionless Death Eater known as Draco Malfoy had just opened his chest and given her a piece of the little heart he had, and she longed to repay him in some way, and let him know that he wasn't alone, but she didn't know how._

_Ginny gazed up at him. The black witchy high-heels made her slightly taller, so the top of her head was now level with Draco's nose. Her knee-length, floaty black Hallowe'en dresss probably looked really stupid… why was he looking at her like that? It made her feel so shy and silly, like she actually mattered in the world._

_Side-step left, then right, then left, then twirl out. She lifted her hand, shyly spinning underneath, her hair nearly hitting Draco, and then moving forwards. Oh God, here it comes, here it comes – the twang of the fiddle, Draco hands flying away, sweeping to her small waist, lift up, his slim hands around her, twirling her around, smiling timidly down at him, and then letting his arms buckle so that she dropped down, surprisingly graceful, and turned, skirt swirling._

"_Oh hell," said Ginny, panicky as she saw Hermione coming. "Not good, not good." She looked up into Draco's face, cringing as Hermione drew closer and closer. Ginny sighed heavily. "Oh, for God's sake," she said, and she was standing on tiptoe, stepping into Draco's personal bubble – oh God, oh God – and then she pressed her lips to his for one second, two seconds, three… the mistletoe disappeared, and Ginny turned on her heel, fleeing, face red with embarrassment and a strange feeling of pleasure._

"_Er, I need you to help me make a romantic potion that should, in theory, take six days to make," Ginny blurted out, batting her short eyelashes hopefully at him. She knew that fluttering her eyelashes hadn't worked with Sanchia, but knew? She could give it a shot._

_Ginny was spinning under his arm, her own arm stretched upwards to almost its full extent, her skirt flaring around her knees, and then her journey across the dance floor came to abrupt halt and Draco caught her, his head lightly clapping her back, and then they were dancing, closer than ever, their bodies flush of each other. Ginny's breath caught again as she found herself pressed against tall, slim Draco Malfoy's chest, but she discovered that she was totally unwilling to move. She tipped her head right back so that her red hair sparkled in the light as it fell down from her shoulders, to look up at him. Ginny nodded silently, wanting to just enjoy the moment, her fingers interlaced with his, her face tilted up, his tilted down… she was struck by a sudden urge to stand on tiptoe and kiss him… she leaned forwards, her eyes fluttering closed –_

_The Mirror of Erised. It was smashed, and in a thousand pieces… but did it still worked. Ginny glanced over her shoulder, checking that it wasn't her time to go yet, and then stared into the water. What she was surprised her incredibly. There was a reflection of herself, gazing in awe at the mirror, and then, behind her, his arms twined around her waist, was… Draco._

_The smallest of smiles flickered across Ginny's face, and then, as she looked up at Bellatrix, she whispered, "Thank you… I wouldn't have wanted to die any other way – I'm dying to save the person I… __**love**__."_

"It's true," Ginny whispered, mainly to herself, but partially to the sleeping blonde angel whose hand she held. "I – I _love _you. I really do… not like my stupid crush on Dean, Seamus, Terry – even Harry! I wasn't supposed to… and I'm not supposed to now, either… but I'm falling in love with you. Far, too fast. I've already passed the point of no return," she chuckled slightly, quoting one of Hermione's Muggle space films.

Draco murmured something inaudible, but it was enough to attract Ginny's attention to his thin, pale lips. _Do I… do I dare?_ She stared down at her hands, one holding Draco's one and the other holding his cheek. He was so close… and yet, in his dreams, so far away. _Ginny, it's not as if you're ever going to get another opportunity. Take this chance_…

Finally, trembling, and still holding on with both hands, Ginny leaned forwards. Her eyes fluttered closed and she rested her lips briefly, softly on his. She pulled back slowly, opening her eyes, and touched her fingers to her lips, scarcely daring to believe that it had happened at last. A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, and she knew that she wanted this moment to last forever.

…

"Miss Weasley?"

Ginny blinked blearily at the harsh light as she woke up. She was rather uncomfortable, now that she thought of it. Why was that? Oh yes. She was curled up precariously on the edge of Draco's bed. Reddening, she stood, holding her bandages and looked, ashamed at Madam Pomfrey.

"I trust you slept well?" the matron questioned, a slightly teasing note in her tone.

Ginny's colour deepened. "I'm sorry," she said, and hastily made her way back to her own bed. It was like sliding into ice; the lack of her own body heat had made it freezing. "When am I able to leave?" she asked.

"Today," said Madam Pomfrey. "If, that is, I check and find that you're fit to go. However, I must say that you'll need to come back in the evenings for me to give you a check-up." Ginny nodded, and sat patiently as the elderly woman fussed and prodded her with a wand. "Very well, Miss Weasley. You're free to go."

Ginny thanked her, and then hurried on towards the Gryffindor tower. She was wearing only the flimsy Hospital pajamas and a lot of bandages; she just hoped that she wouldn't run into anyone. The only people she saw was a group of first-years who yelped in their mirth and then covered their eyes, still laughing.

Normally, this would have been Ginny's cue to snap, "grow up" or something to that effect, but now their hilarity didn't bother her. She was floating – floating on the memory of the feel of Draco's lips against hers. She jogged up the stairs and pushed through the portrait hole.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnigan were chatting amiably by the fireplace. Ron and Hermione were curled up together like cats in the single armchair; Harry and the Creevey brothers were sprawled out on the sofa; Seamus and Lavender were together on the loveseat. Ginny rushed past them, trying to cover the Hospital pajamas.

"Ginny, I need to talk to you," said Harry, stopping her from going up the girls' dorm.

"So do I," snapped Ron. "Now."

"Oh dear," the others groaned. Ginny and Ron's family fights were legendary in the Gryffindor common room. Anyone sleeping would have no hope of get even a snooze with their level of bellowing, and if you wanted your eardrums to stay intact, it would be wise to leave the Gryffindor tower.

"Not right now, Ron," said Ginny, continuing to her dormitory.

"Yes, right now, Ginny, it's important!" Ron snapped.

"Well, Ron, I'm going to walk away from you regardless, because I'm in Hospital Wing pajamas!"

"So? There's nothing wrong with that. Now -"

"Would you like to wear them, Ron?"

"_No!_ Everyone know they're see-through!"

"EXACTLY!" Ginny stalked away from the snickers and the shouting, up the stairs, and flopped onto her bed. _Why does he have to always spoil everything? Why – __**why **__– does he have to ruin the best time of my life?_ She angrily pummelled her pillow, imagining it to have blue eyes, red hair and freckles. "Stupid," she growled. She stood, crossed to the bathroom and showered thoroughly, clawing at her scalp to get the blood from it. When she was satisfied that she had been scrubbed within an inch of her life, she reapplied her bandages to various wounds, tugged on jeans, a plain T-shirt and a woollen lime-green jumper, slipped her feet into her trainers, and pulled her wet hair into an untidy bun.

"Right, I suppose I'd better go and have a friendly chat to Mr. Gentleman 2008," she said sarcastically to herself, and returned down the stairs.

"Yes, Ronald?" Ginny asked, her voice dripping with hostility and irritation.

"Ginevra, come with me," he snapped.

"Don't – call – me _– Ginevra_!" she snapped. "_Ronald_," she added for good measure. "You know, I think that I might talk to Harry first – _just _to annoy you."

"_Don't you dare_!"

Ginny glared up at her tall sibling and followed him from the common room, into the passageway of the Gryffindor tower. "Well, Ron. You've got me here, now, so spit it out. What the hell do you want?" she asked.

"Don't talk to me that way, Ginny," Ron growled. "Anyway, I don't _want _anything. I am _getting _something. You are _never _to go near Malfoy again."

"WHAT?" Ginny yelled. "THAT'S why you pulled me out here?! I don't _believe _you! You arrogant _git_, Ronald – you can NOT control my life, so just live your own!"

"_Ginny, he is __**using**__ you_!" Ronald snarled. "Trust me on this! He is a no-good asshole and he's just using you to get close to Harry!"

"FOR YOUR INFORMATION, _RONALD_, WE HARDLY EVER DISCUSS HARRY! WE HARDLY EVER DISCUSS YOU, OR HERMIONE, OR MUM AND DAD, OR WHERE WE LIVE!" Ginny bellowed. "I HAVE HAD IT UP TO _HERE_ WITH YOU, ALWAYS STICKING YOUR NOSE IN OTHER PEOPLE'S BUSINESS! I'm NOT going to just stop being friends with Draco because you ASKED ME TO!"

"Ginevra, I'm not asking you. I'm TELLING you!" Ron shouted. "You are never going near him again!"

"How would you like it if I said that you could never see Hermione again?" Ginny snapped. "How would you like it?"

Ron turned red. "That's different!" he retorted angrily.

"No, it's NOT! Draco is my BEST FRIEND -"

"Wait – WHAT?" Ron yelped. "WE are your best friends!"

"NO YOU'RE NOT, RON! My best friends come to help me when I need helping, regardless of whether or not they like what they have to do. Luna, Myrtle and Draco are my best friends. Luna doesn't particularly like Draco, but when she saw how upset I was that I was being tortured, she IMMEDIATELY volunteered to help me save him – instead of what YOU did, which is bellow at me that I'm not allowed to go!"

"GINNY STOP SHOUTING! WE ARE NOT EVEN HAVING THIS BLOODY CONVERSATION, OKAY? YOU'RE NOT EVER SEEING THAT STUPID SLYTHERIN BASTARD-"

_Whack_.

Ron crumpled to the floor, and Ginny stormed back into the Gryffindor common room past a horrified, gaping Fat Lady. Breathing hard, she said flatly, "Harry, I believe you wanted to talk to me next?"

"Where's Ron?" asked Dennis fearfully.

"Dead," retorted Ginny sardonically. "I killed him and ate his liver. Happy? Come on, Harry, let's move it."

With a rather frightened glance at Ron, staggering in sporting a black eye and a busted lip, Harry followed Ginny outside. "Not another one!" complained the Fat Lady. "Count me out. I'll be with Sir Cadogan at the bottom of the tower. Tell me when you've stop screaming your lungs out at each other." Pink skirts swishing, she stood and waddled out of the canvas.

Harry took a deep breath, and looked down at Ginny. She was in one of her fierce moods – her face flushed with anger and her eyes glowing. "Ginny," he started lamely. "I don't want to upset you, because you're _very _important to me and I wouldn't be able to cope if anything were to upset you -"

Ginny snorted. "Yeah, except for my best friend being tortured. _That _gets overlooked," she said coolly.

Harry's face heated up. "I didn't realize how serious it was," he said apologetically. _I'm sure_, Ginny thought, but she let him finish. "Anyway, I do love you, Gin, and I care about you -"

"Harry, it's over."

"-and I – wait. What?" Harry spluttered, looked nonplussed. "I… I – _what_?"

"Stop sounding so shocked," Ginny said boredly. "You don't love me, and, to be quite frank, I don't love you. I actually never have. More of a silly childhood crush, if you must know."

"B-but -" Harry stammered. "You knew… you knew a-about Luna?" his face coloured terribly.

"Yes, I did, Harry, and I wish you the best of luck with her."

"But… why didn't you break up with me?" asked Harry, sounding almost annoyed at Ginny's _totally _irresponsible behaviour (sarcasm alert).

"_Because_, Harry, I was waiting for you to suck it up, be a man, and tell me yourself how you felt without me jumping to conclusions and ditching you without an explanation," Ginny said. "Anyway, I _do_ love you – but as a big brother."

"Like Ron."

"Yeah, like Ron. Well, less arrogant and nosy. But, basically, like Ron," Ginny laughed. "Is there anything you want me to help with? For you and Luna, I mean."

Harry looked thoughtful. "I don't know… I think I'll be fine – oh! Do you know what her favourite flowers are?" he asked, blushing until it seemed as if his glasses would steam up. "I think I might give her a bouquet of flowers when I ask her out… if that's okay with you."

"I don't know about her _favourite _flower – but I do know that she loves clematis," Ginny advised, and, when Harry looked blank, she added, "big purple flower."

"Ohhh," said Harry, nodding. "Right. I'll get some on my next Hogsmeade trip."

"I can show you – no. Wait. I can't," Ginny muttered. She had forgotten. "I'm not allowed into Hogsmeade."

"So?" Harry asked bluntly. "You weren't allowed to fly across England and rescue Malfoy from the Lestranges, but it didn't stop you then."

"Yeah, but that was an emergency," Ginny pointed out. "Anyway. Come on, let's go back inside. FAT LADY!" The overweight beribboned woman hastened back into her portrait and sat down to give them entry.

"Wow, the silence was actually really weird," Seamus joked. "My ears were ringing from Ron and Ginny's conversation – and then Harry went down there and it was like the world had stopped!"

"You're _so _funny, Shay," Lavender cooed, capturing her boyfriend's mouth with hers. Ginny grimaced at the slightly horrific sight of the love-seat, and then dropped down onto the sofa between Dennis and Colin.

"So what happened?" Hermione prompted, looking between Harry and Ginny. She _had _previously been sitting on Ron's lap, but he had stormed outside to see Ginny, and when he came back, he collapsed on top of Hermione, so now it looked slightly bizarre.

"Er," said Harry, looking a bit ashamed of himself.

"Me and Harry broke up," Ginny said unblushingly, standing and crossing to the Muggle vending-machine that Seamus, Dean and Harry had all smuggled into Hogwarts after stealing it from a London shopping centre over the Christmas holidays. "Drinks, anyone?"

Ron gasped for air for a few seconds like a dying fish; Hermione's expression was one of _thank you, finally _before she raised her hand and declared, "I feel like having a Fanta, please,"; Dennis and Colin were sniggering as they asked for Pepsis; Seamus and Lavender looked shocked; Harry, looking embarrassed, asked for a drink.

"WHAT?" Ron bellowed at the last minute; Hermione sighed at him and began to reprimand him in whispers.

"No way, mate," Seamus said. "You just ditched the best girl in Gryffindor! Apart from Lavender, 'course," he added hastily, seeing his girlfriend's blazing look.

"You know it," smirked Lavender, and attacked his lips again, Harry and Ginny's relationship forgotten.

Ginny kicked the stubborn machinery a few times to get it gurgling into action, before it spat out one Coke, one Fanta, two Pepsis and a Sprite. Ginny distributed them accordingly and then cracked her own can open, slurping happily from the icy drink. Everyone was still staring at her and Harry – it was bugging her. "What?" she asked, setting her can down before sitting down again.

"Are you doing this JUST to annoy me?" Ron demanded.

Ginny smiled sweetly at him. "Now, _why_, darling brother, would I ever sink so low?" she simpered, sipping from her drink again.

"I know what you're doing, Ginny – you're deliberately breaking up with Harry so that you can go and be with _Malfoy_," Ron spat. "I see right through you, and you're not going anywhere with him. He's a stupid, betraying Dark Lord supporter who only wants to hurt you."

Seamus, Lavender, Dennis and Colin gasped. _Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley? That's like… the sly Slytherin Prince and the fiery Gryffindor Queen! That's like… fire and ice! Surely not._

Ginny stared at Ron, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. "You know," she said quietly, "I could have _sworn _that we had already held this conversation, and that you came out off it with a black eye."

Dennis snickered; his older brother thumped him. "Shut up, Den, if you want to stay alive. This is how it works with the Weasleys – stay quiet, keep still, and hope that they don't see you and decide to attack," Colin hissed. Hermione slid out from under Ron and hurried to sit elsewhere. Rule One of Being A Gryffindor: don't get caught the middle of the Weasley arguments.

"I don't care. Draco Malfoy is arrogant bastard, and you're never going to speak to him again," Ron said smoothly. Everyone in the room shot him fearful, _shut-up-Ron-you're-going-to-be-murdered_ looks. Saying that Ginny had a scary temper was a serious understatement, and insulting her or her friends was like telling Satan that his goatee makes his face look fat.

Ginny stood up and moved swiftly across the room. She stopped in front of her brother's seat. "Ronald Bilius Weasley," she said icily, "you are so far up yourself that you can brush your teeth from the inside. You make me _sick_." Then, so suddenly that no-one could quite process what had happened, she threw the contents of her Coke can at him. Almost in slow-motion, half a litre of fizzy black liquid splattered his clothes, his face, his hair, and the chair. Leaving the common room in a stunned silence, Ginny stalked up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

**A/N:** Haha… Ron got owned. XP Please review, as always! (See the little button below… click it… it won't hurt if you juuuust click it)


	38. Senses

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Early March. Geez, it's been February for like five chapters. Ah well. This is a fluffy chapter, but also a little dark at the end. Enjoy!

**DEDICATION: I'm really getting the hang of these dedication thingies! This chapter is dedicated to Mechanical Pencil 0.5, who was my first ever reviewer. Thankyouh!**

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**Something Else: **I would also, for no particular reason, like everyone to know that I'm making two other fics! Woop! The first is a one-shot about Lily/James and the second is Peter Pan… hehe. Anyway, continue.

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Thirty-Eight: Senses**_

_**DRACO**_

Senses.

The first that came back was touch. Someone was holding his hand, gently and almost tenderly. Someone was brushing his hair out of his eyes. Someone, warm, sitting beside him. Someone was _right there_, holding him and caring for him and – dare he think of it? – loving him.

Taste. There was blood, salt, and sweat in his mouth, but he didn't have the strength to spit it out; also, he didn't want to disgust and frighten off the Someone who was being so kind to him. Smell – no… he couldn't smell anything.

Hearing. The soft rustle of curtains and bedsheets, the quiet pattering of an elderly lady's footsteps, and Someone's soft breathing. His own breath, rough and haggard. A voice – gentle, soothing, and strangely familiar. "It's okay… it's alright, sshh, it's okay," the Someone murmured. It was a female voice, though he expected as much – it wasn't very likely that a boy would be holding his hand and stroking his hair.

Sight.

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes.

The brightness of the Hospital Wing hurt, but blocking out the worst of it was the Someone's face. Pale, heart-shaped, smiling, flowing hair like fire… _do I know her? _Draco frowned, not quite sure who this unbelievably familiar girl was. He did not remember her, but something about seeing her made his stomach twist into a knot and flip over. He scanned her face… _hazel eyes_.

_She was gasping for breath, screaming as she died, twisting beneath him, her beautiful, round, hazel eyes wide and terrified. "Please, Draco, stop hurting me!" she screeched._

"_CRUCIO!" Macbain shouted. A beam of blue magic hit Ginny squarely in the chest. She fell to the ground, screaming, high-pitched and anguished, writhing in the leaves, tears pouring from her hazel eyes and down her freckled face._

_Then Ginny's head rolled to the side, hazel eyes lifeless; she would never laugh, blush, or hurdle the sofas in the Gryffindor common room for fun again._

"Ginny!" he cried. His back hurt and the slightest movement shook his entire body with pain – but the Lestranges had done worse, and he threw his pale, skinny arms around the girl that he loved enough to throw away his away for. _Luna didn't abandon her, she got back safely, she wasn't killed, she's alive, Ginny's alive, I love her, I never want to let her go, she wasn't killed, it was __**fake**__, the Cruciatus curse was fake, Macbain never got to her, she's ALIVE and I love her. _"Ginny, Ginny – Luna – she said – I was – horse – crying – torture – please – _Ginny!_"

Tears stung his blue eyes, and, unashamed of them, Draco let them spill down his pale cheeks. "Ginny," he whispered, burying his face into her thin shoulder. "I'm sorry…"

"Draco, you have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing that happened was your fault," she told him, pulling away from the hug and looking directly into his face. Draco felt her eyes on him, but he couldn't look up. It was like gazing into the most vivid, dazzling light, and meeting her eyes would be an endless black hole; he'd surely break down and kiss her. _She already has a boyfriend, _he reminded himself, resisting the urge to peek up through his eyelashes and look at her lips.

"Well…" mumbled Draco, not sure what to say. _How about "it is my fault because I lured you into the grasp of Bellatrix and Rodolphus by falling in love with you instead of murdering you like I should have?"_ _Not really my most persuasive argument._

"Draco," Ginny said firmly. "I travelled the half the length of the United Kingdom to save your life. And _nothing _that you could ever say or do would stop me from doing it all over again if I had to."

"Apart from kissing Sanchia," mumbled Draco, a teasing grin lifting his lips slightly.

"Hey – watch it," said Ginny, mock-warningly as she held up a small fist. "You're going the same way as my brother, and the last time I had a conversation with him he came out with a black eye and a faceful of my drink."

Draco smiled. "Smooth," he said, leaning back onto his pillow, despite the urge to hold her until the end of time. Instead he settled with looking at her face. "I wonder how you got in the social crowd."

"We'll never know," said Ginny solemnly.

Draco took a deep breath. "Ginny… thank you," he forced out, feeling red rise on his face. "You saved my life."

Ginny flushed scarlet. "N-not really," she said, looking at her hands. She was still holding Draco's, but, oddly enough, didn't make any move to let go. "I… I just got Bellatrix out of the way so that Luna could haul your sorry arse back to the horse."

"Yeah, well, whose mad idea was it to fly most of the way across England to save my – I quote – 'sorry arse'?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. Feeling that he was acting too silly for the sentimental moment, he knew that he had to quickly add what he _really _meant. "Anyway, I know that you, technically, didn't save my life," he said quietly, "but helped me get it back."

Ginny gave him an odd look; Draco coloured, but continued.

"What I mean is… okay, Ginny, you're my best friend in the entire world and I'm not going to dumb things down for you like trying to explain where China is to five-year-olds," Draco said flatly. "Ginny, I was tortured. They whipped me with chains. They sliced the backs of my legs open. They set me on a giant table and played Doctor with rusty hooks. They showed me the cross-section of a human arm. They used the Cruciatus curse. They showed me my worst nightmares, amplified a million times. They slapped me, beat me up, and put me through emotional agony – screw physical agony. All you need is a spell that tells you exactly what your victim's weaknesses are and blow them up to a terrifying scale."

Ginny blanched. She looked as though she might be sick.

"The point is, Ginny… the point is that after I went through all of that for five days, I didn't _want _anyone to save my life. If someone rescued me, they wouldn't be able to save my mind – or my body, for that matter. I can never forget what they did to me. I didn't _want _anyone to save me. I wanted to die," Draco said, feeling terrible just thinking about it all over again. "Screw saying goodbye to my family and friends… I wanted everyone else to be safe, and I wanted to end my life."

Ginny's grip had unconsciously tightened incredibly on Draco's hand. It actually hurt a lot.

"Look at me. I'm rambling," Draco laughed bitterly. "I still haven't made my point. My point is that you didn't save my life – you gave it back to me. I didn't want to be alive… unless you were there. Helping me. I couldn't have _escaped _without Luna or Myrtle… but if you hadn't been there, if it had been anyone else, I wouldn't be sitting and having a conversation with you or anyone else. I'd be in a coffin at my own funeral after having thrown myself out of the Astronomy tower."

Ginny stared at him, and Draco felt ashamed of admitting how scared and how weak he had been.

"I… Ginny, I don't know if you heard, but I screamed all the way back to Hogwarts from the Lestrange castle. I didn't want to leave you. I _wouldn't_ leave you. The only thing that stopped me from lobbing myself into the sky was the fact that I couldn't move and that Luna had pinned me to the sodding horse…"

Ginny was still staring. Then, when Draco started to feel uncomfortable, she said fiercely, "Don't you dare ever jump off the Astronomy tower, Drakonus Ophius Malfoy, or I'll turn back time, beat you up, _push you off the tower myself_, turn back time _again_, and then haunt you about it for the rest of your days."

Draco raised his eyebrows again. "Wouldn't it have been easier just to say 'don't commit suicide'?" he asked.

"It could work," said Ginny coolly. They both laughed, and Ginny reached forwards to hug him again. "I'm so happy that you're safe," she whispered in his ear. "Thank you for making my life whole again."

"Trust me, m'dear," drawled Draco with a smirk, before dropping the attitude that had plagued Hogwarts for six years and murmuring sincerely, "the feeling is mutual."

Ginny grinned into his shoulder, before moving back, wrinkling her nose. "Ouch," she said teasingly, "I see one thing that _isn't _mutual is that _I've _had a shower." She grimaced and pinched her nose. "Phoo-ee."

Draco folded his arms across his chest. "That's not fair," he said. "I've..." he didn't say any more. It had taken a lot of courage to tell Ginny everything about his nightmare at the Lestranges and escaping. He still could not sleep at night without fear of the visions of Ginny coming back to him while he was slumbering and vunerable. He kept seeing the sneering female face; kept hearing the furious male bellowing. He kept feeling the throbbing sting of the chains, the agonizing slash of the knife and the excruciating drag of the hooks.

Ginny fell silent, obviously sensing what was going through Draco's head. He was grateful for this, and it was one of the infinite incredible things about her. She seemed to be in everyone else's head. She knew everything, and she knew how to make it better – or, woe be to the one who got on her bad side, worse.

A bell dinged, and Ginny looked backwards over her shoulder. The clock was striking twelve. "Damn!" she hissed. "I'm late for Transfiguration." She turned back to face Draco. "Hey, I'm really sorry, Draco, I have to go. I'll come and see afterwards, okay? Try to cope by yourself for two hours."

Draco nodded. "Good luck. I expect McGonagall will let you off, though. She knows that you've got an invalid to handle," he smiled.

"I suppose," said Ginny, pulling her schoolbag onto her shoulder. She crouched beside his bedside, smoothing his hair back. "Feel better, 'kay? Try to get some sleep," she whispered. Then, colour decorating her creamy cheeks, she lightly touched her lips to his grubby forehead, sending a shiver down Draco's spine that had nothing to do with cold or pain.

She started to walk towards the curtains, when Draco stopped her. "Ginny," he called, his voice hoarse from screaming for five days straight. She turned. Feeling slightly silly, Draco asked, "how can you stand that?"

Ginny frowned. "Stand what?"

Draco reddened. "Er," he pointed towards his forehead, before awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, "that."

"Oh!" Ginny blushed, but she grinned past it. "You should know by now. I don't judge a book by its cover." Then, she teased, "unless I _know _that it's a really bad book!"

The fall of her footsteps faded away to silence, but Draco's heart was still pounding. _I don't judge a book by its cover; unless I know that it's a really bad book. Translating into – I don't judge people, unless I know that they're evil_. "What does that make me?" he whispered to himself.

Madam Pomfrey appeared in the gap in the curtains. "Ah, Mister Malfoy, how good of you to join us," she said. "We've met tired children in our time, but even so, passing out off a Threstral and remaining dead to the world for four days straight had us a little worried!"

"Sorry," said Draco. He shifted so that the matron could remove the bandages and apply new ones. "I… I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't, dear," Madam Pomfrey said kindly. "Lord knows you've been through enough the past week." She clumsily patted his cheek like a fond grandmother. A jolt made its way down Draco's back at that touch. What on earth…

_Darkness… everything was quiet… he was so tired… a little light… someone was there… "Sshh, don't worry"… a hand on his cheek, gentle… dark._

"Did you come and visit me when I was unconscious?" Draco asked suddenly.

"'Course I did," said Madam Pomfrey absently as she carefully peeled the gauze material from his skin. "I had to visit you, dear, or you might have _died_, silly."

"I know, but – OW!" Draco yelped as the bandage, sticky with blood, pulled at his healing wounds. "I mean… _always_ visiting me?" he said through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the blood spreading across his stomach.

"No," said Madam Pomfrey. "_Scourgify_." As the blood disappeared, a secretive smile appeared on her face. "I must say, I thought you'd have already figured it out." When Draco only looked blank, she said, "you have a good friend in Miss Weasley."

"That – that was _Ginny_?" he spluttered. "But… she was…"

"You mean a lot to that girl, you know," Madam Pomfrey informed him. "She came every single day to see you. First at eight o'clock in the morning, missing breakfast, until her first class, or, if she didn't have one, until class break when she would leave to see her other friends. Then again, at six o'clock until eight o'clock in the evening, when she would return to Gryffindor tower. _Without fail_. I checked the time – she was never early, never late. She always came."

Draco's heart swelled with affection for Ginny. _She cares for me…_ Half of him wanted to challenge the matron with "really?" but the other half just wanted to lie down and bask in the feeling that he meant something to the only person he'd ever loved.

Half an hour, nine bandages, and a small deal of soreness, later, Draco was given his Strength Potion, and then, to his surprise, lifted out of bed. "What are you doing?" he panicked.

"I'm making you learn to walk again," said Madam Pomfrey. "Or would you rather I gave you a Muggle wheelchair?"

"I'll learn to walk, thanks," said Draco bitterly, shuddering at the thought of looking like a paralyzed Muggle.

**Ten O'clock**

Ginny had left two hours ago, and the darkness had settled in. All that existed was the pale moonlight and the rustle of bedsheets. Draco stared at the ceiling, trying to sort out his head. The Dark Lord would know by now that he had escaped; and Lord Voldemort would _not _be pleased.

On the contrary, he'd be absolutely raving furious.

When Lord Voldemort is furious, he usually kills people, and memories of Ginny's headless body, bodyless head, blood, distressed eyes and writhing on the ground still floated behind Draco's eyes. Not only that, but now came images of _Draco _dying.

Draco tried to hum to block out the deathly silence clamping in on him. He was used to sleeping with the pig-like snores of Goyle, the muttering of Crabbe, and the quiet singing of Zabini. Sleep pulled at his eyelids, but he was scared. Every time that his eyes closed, the vision came back, and he never wanted to have to see it again.

Sleep… _stay awake, Draco_… must… sleep… _don't you –yawn- dare…_ sleeeeeeee-

_Blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death._

"No…"

_Her harsh, high-pitched screams were still audible, amplified a thousand times, it seemed. He couldn't hide away from it. She was writhing, twisting horribly in the dirt, crying out in her death throes. Her hair was coming loose from its neat ponytail, hair flying over her distorted face. Now came something that Draco had not seen before: a Muggle knife._

"_No_… please… no…" Draco twisted. "Please…" Something was smothering him… he kicked off his blankets… it was killing him… he threw him pillow into the curtains… _Ginny was choking, eyes wide in terror_… "PLEASE!" he shouted, and then he writhed too violently, and smacked down over the edge of the bed. PAIN. "_Stop it_!"

"_Draco," said a high, cold voice. "You've disappointed me. You swore that you had not been disloyal… I was almost prepared to set you free and let you live, Draco. However, then, as I am about to end your torture, what do I see? The very girl that you were supposed to loathe and __**murder**__, flying towards you… on – what is this – a __**rescue**__ misson… is that what you call loyalty?"_

"_Please, just go away," Draco begged. "I don't want to have to do this anymore. I don't want to kill innocent people – I don't want to kill Ginny… I just want to live my life… PLEASE. I want to wake up, please, please, I want to wake up!"_

With a lot of effort, as if he was dragging himself out of mud, Draco awoke. Then he screamed. Lord Voldemort was standing right in front of him, glaring. "NO!" Draco hollered. "Please, leave me alone. I just want to live my life."

"That could have been arranged, Draco," the Dark Lord sneered, flicking out a knife. "But you've gotten yourself into a bit of a mess, now. Your first disloyalty was small… it could be over-looked, with a little pressure in the right places… but this!" he roared. "Trust me, Draco Malfoy, when I say that you will kill the Weasley girl, and then die a painful death, just like your parents, after you have seen her suffer and _SCREAM_! Are you happy now?" the Dark Lord dragged the knife down Draco's face, cutting through the healing skin…

"NO!" Draco yelled. "PLEASE, no, I didn't mean to – I didn't _ask _them to save me! PLEASE, DON'T MAKE ME -"

"_DRACO_!"

Someone was shaking his shoulders… but the Dark Lord, no, not Lord Voldemort… SLAP. "Wake up, Draco!" cried an elderly female voice.

Draco's eyes snapped open. He was lying, face down, on the floor beside his bed. Madam Pomfrey, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall were crouching beside him, while every child in the Hospital Wing stared at him. In his writhing, Draco had dragged the curtains down, and all the first-years were gazing, terrified at him and clutching at each other.

"Mister Malfoy, what's wrong?" Professor McGonagall fretted. She and Madam Pomfrey lifted him back onto the bed, and it was then that they gasped. On his face, a long, neat wound. It was new and fresh, and bleeding across his cheek.

"What on God's name happened to him?" Professor Snape demanded, surprisingly protective.

"He must have been cut on something – the corner of the bedside table," Professor McGonagall guessed.

"No," said Madam Pomfrey, "there's nothing that anyone could be injured upon in the Hospital Wing. Even if there was, nothing could make such a precise cut." Her hands trembled, and she held them still, looking, distressed, at Draco.

"What are you suggesting?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking at the tidy gash across the gaunt boy's cheek.

"Minerva – Severus – you have to warn the students," Madam Pomfrey said, deadly serious. "There is someone dangerous in the castle…trust me on my analogy – this was no accident."

McGonagall gaped. "Poppy, do you _honestly _think that Mister Malfoy was attacked? For seemingly no reason?" she questioned.

"Who on earth would want to harm Draco Malfoy, I wonder?" said Snape sarcastically. "Believe me, Minerva," he continued. "If you would look up, I think you'll find that it was not for no reason." Some children looked up and screamed, hiding their eyes under their blankets.

The two women looked fearfully ceiling-wards and their eyes widened at what they saw. Floating above Draco's bed was the Dark Mark and a sharp, blood-stained pen-knife.

**A/N:** Dun-Dun-DUNNN! You'll have to wait to find out. See, the funny thing is, that I already have the other chapters, but I only post one a day… so all that time you were waiting for this chapter, I HAD IT!! AND I WAS KEEPING YOU IN SUPSENSE!! Bwahahahahrr… Anyway. I will love you forever if you give me a review (or a hug. Or cheese. Or chocolate…)


	39. Seven Out Of Eight

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Early March. Okay, my apologies, this is a sort of crappy chapter… And it's very short… any ideas on how to make it longer/better PLEASE! PLEASE tell me! Thanks. Anywho… onto the dedications and all that jazz.

**DEDICATION: Er… no idea. Skip to the disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**Something Else: **Read the story. Do it. **NOW.**

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Thirty-Nine: Seven Out Of Eight**_

_**GINNY**_

"All students report to the Great Hall immediately. All students report to the Great Hall immediately."

McGonagall's voice crackled, before repeating her message, her voice booming through the castle. Ginny sidled over to Neville. "What do you think is going on?" she asked, walking with him to the portrait hole.

"No idea," Neville said truthfully. "I'm a bit worried, to tell the truth. The last time that we were summoned to the Great Hall, it was because Aberforth Dumbledore died."

"I wonder who's died this time?" Ginny joked, but her heart was battering her ribcage. _Lord Voldemort's getting closer…_ _SHUT UP_, her brain barked, and she then noticed that Neville was talking again. "Sorry, could you repeat that, please?" she asked. "I sort of blanked out."

Neville, looking incensed, said, "As I was saying, I just want a girl's opinion – would it be a good move to get a girl flowers?"

"I think so. Usually. Which girl have you got in mind?" Ginny asked interestedly.

"Erm, well, as you may or may not know, I'm starting to -"

"Trick step."

"-Thanks," Neville said, dodging the step that usually swallowed his foot whole. "I've had a bit of a crush on Hannah Abbott for a while, and I just thought that I'm going to be brave and take it a step forwards. After all, if _Ron _can get a girlfriend, then maybe so can I!"

"Don't sound appalled that some find my brother attractive," Ginny said with a laugh, "though, I have to admit, I certainly wouldn't. I think I'm on your side."

"Thanks," Neville grinned nervously. "I'm going to go and ask her what her favourite flower is _right _now." He waved clumsily at Ginny and then hurried away to a small, chubby Hufflepuff with blonde pigtails and large green eyes. Ginny watched as Hannah blushed, giggled, and whispered something in his ear. She could not hear it, but Neville turned the colour of a beetroot and froze solid.

"What's the little heart-breaker done now?" Ginny teased, catching up to him easily now that his limbs seemed to have been petrified.

"She – she -" Neville stammered, and then gazed after her bouncing ponytails and broad smile. "I asked what flowers she liked… and she – she said that there was a type of flower that she loved more than any other… called – c-called Smiling Nevilles." Suddenly he looked rather worried. "I've never heard of them. They must be really rare – how will I get her one?" he stared at Ginny, clearly distraught.

Ginny laughed again. "Smiling Nevilles don't exist," she reassured him, "it was a secretive way of saying that she likes your smile. It means she likes you." She grinned, happy for her friend.

Neville frowned. "Well, why couldn't she just _say _so?" he sighed. "Ginny, can you please, _please_ write a book all about how girls' brains work?"

"I'll fit in my schedule," she said coolly, and then they entered the Great Hall. They entire school was there, and, to Hermione's delight, the house-elves were present, too, though forced into a corner.

"D'you see that, Gin?" she squealed excitedly. "The house-elves have been called in! They count as beings who are important and need to be protected as well as the students! It's a start!" then her face fell. "_Oh_, but I didn't bring any S.P.E.W badges! Do you think that they'll let me run up and get my collecting tin?"

"Mione," said Ron, "_please_ stop with the SPEW."

"It's not SPEW!" she said heatedly. "It's S.P.E.W." Hermione was _still_ crazy about her Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.

Leaving the two love-bird's to their argument, Ginny found Luna in the Ravenclaw crowd. "Have you any idea what's going on?" Luna asked.

"No. I was just going to ask you."

Luna opened her mouth to reply, but Professor Umbridge had stepped up to the podium.

"_Hem, hem_." Everyone looked reluctantly towards the Headmistress. "_Hem, hem_. I am _dreadfully_ sorry to tell you this, but Hogwarts is in a spot of difficulty. Now, I want us all to be helpful and caring in this time of trouble…"

Ginny frowned, and leant towards Luna. "She's been talking for five minutes straight and I still can't actually tell what's wrong," she whispered, trying to stifle her giggles.

"Dolores, perhaps it would be better if I retained the position of speaker," Professor McGonagall said coldly.

Umbridge scowled, but simpered, "of course, dear," and scuttled back to the rest of the staff.

McGonagall took her place at the podium. "Students of Hogwarts," she began seriously, "new precautions are being taken. Every student will be back in their dormitories by five o'clock in the evening _without fail_. You will either travel around the school in groups of at least eight, and you will accompanied to your classes with a teacher. You will not go to any other houses."

"Why?" someone yelled.

McGonagall took a deep breath; it was evident that she had not planned on telling them why. "A student has been attacked," she said solemnly.

Gasps rang through the Great Hall, followed by a colossal muttering as everyone confided their thoughts to their friends. Then the teachers began filing out to take students to their classes, and those without a class, such as Ginny, were ushered back upstairs. She hurried to find eight Gryffindors, and was assembled into a group of Neville, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Dean Thomas, a third-year named Euan Abercrombie and his friend Anthony Higson, and Jaqi.

"Who do you think was attacked?" asked Neville nervously. "I hope it wasn't a Gryffindor."

"I hope it was a Slytherin," Ron cut in, earning him a death-glare from Ginny.

"Come on, Ron, not all Slytherins are bad," said Hermione, with a sideways glance at Ginny. The Head Girl was still trying to make up to Ginny about telling Ron and Harry about Draco.

"They are!" Ron retorted. "They're all mean, slimy gits, and if they all dropped dead, I honestly wouldn't give a damn."

"Shut up!" snapped Ginny. "You're so prejudiced about _everyone_! Can't you just sod off and leave other people alone?"

"Ooh, getting defensive, Weasley?" sneered Jaqi. "I should have known… I _knew _it. You _did_ snog Malfoy, didn't you?" she smirked, knowing what reaction it would get from everyone.

"WHAT?" Ron bellowed. "YOU – DID – _**WHAT**_?"

"I didn't," Ginny snarled, her face on fire. "I never kissed him – you're just making that up off a stupid rumour." Heat flooded her cheeks, and she knew hopelessly that she was fighting a futile battle. By the end of the day, the whole school would be laughing at her. "I never kissed him, I swear to you! He's my best friend. That's like… that's like saying that Neville kissed Hermione!"

Neville and Hermione both reddened, and became flustered at the accusation. They avoided each other's eyes, and stood on opposite sides of the group. Jaqi, and the two younger Gryffindors, Anthony and Euan, snickered.

"But that's different -" Ron began angrily.

"How? How is it different? Please tell me, Ron, because I'd just _love _to hear this," Ginny said coldly. "Anything you have to say contradicting what I _know _is right must be _so _important."

Ron glowered, and before he could speak, Ginny turned her back on him and Jaqi. The dysfunctional group of eight walked back to Gryffindor tower in silence. Seven out of eight knew that Ginny was right, but one very stubborn male seventeen-year-old redhead Weasley refused to acknowledge the truth.

**A/N:** YES, I know, this is not only an extremely short, but also a rather boring, chapter… I'm really sorry. I just needed to make a link between the last chapter to the next, because the next chapter HAS to be told from Draco's point of view (you'll see why soon enough… .o) I will love you forever if you give me a review (or a hug. Or cheese. Or chocolate…)


	40. Over My Head

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Early March. Alright, this is a normal-ish length chapter… I think it's one of the best chapters evveerrrr.

**DEDICATION: To Draco and Ginny! I luff them! –hugg-**

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**EVERYONE WHO HAS BEEN WAITING! THE MOMENT OF TRUTH HAS ARRIVED! PUCKER UP!!**

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty: Over My Head**_

_**DRACO**_

"You have disappointed me, Draco… _IMPERIO_!"

Draco's eyes snapped open. The sun had nearly finished its journey through the sky, and the clock on the wall spoke five o'clock. _Get out the bed… get out the bed…_ Obediently, he climbed out of bed, and waited blankly for further instructions. _Get the Weasley girl… get the Weasley girl…_ As Draco began to walk stiffly from the Hospital Wing, limping on each step, the tiny working part of his brain screamed, _WHAT ARE YOU DOING? FIGHT BACK! _However, this thinking was not strong enough to overpower Lord Voldemort, and he continued walking.

_Up the stairs… up the stairs, Draco…_ He knew where the Gryffindor tower was, and knew which was the trick step to dodge; his journey up the marble steps was uneventful, until the Fat Lady stopped him from entering the common room.

"You shouldn't be here," she told him bossily, "didn't you hear Professor McGonagall? No-one should be at a house other than their own. You need to go back to Slytherin. Where's your group of eight, or your teacher, anyway? You're going to get in trouble, stupid."

_Lie… lie…_ "I'm with Professor Angleson. He asked out Professor McGonagall yesterday, so he can't face her. He's staying at the bottom of the stairs," Draco said flatly. "I want to talk to Ginny Weasley."

"Hmph!" pouted the Fat Lady. "Whatever happened to 'please may I'? It's always 'I want this, I want that'." She huffed again, and then sidled out of the painting. A moment later she appeared again, and sat down in her chair again. "Have fun."

_WHERE IS THE GIRL, _roared the voice in Draco's head. It made him yelp, and the tiny, realistic part of his brain woke up. _What are you doing? He's controlling you! He's going to kill Ginny! STOP!_

The portrait of the Fat Lady creaked open, and Ginny stepped out. She peered around, and then saw Draco. "Oh! Draco, you can walk again! That's wonderful," she squealed, and hugged him. "Do you know who was attacked this morning?"

_Say no… say no… _"No," replied Draco. "Let's go." He turned and began to march away down the stairs. Ginny, quite sensibly, did not move. "Let's _go_!" he snapped at her.

"Okay, okay!" said Ginny, following him. "Draco, where are we going? We're not allowed out our common rooms in less than groups of eight." She was nervous, he could tell, and his heart went out to her.

_NO GINNY! Don't come with me – please, no, don't, _yelled the working part of Draco's brain. Then, Lord Voldemort said sharply, _shut up, Malfoy, and work with me. Take her to the statue of the hunchback on the third floor… take her there now…_ "Come with me," Draco ordered.

"Draco, are you feeling okay?" Ginny said anxiously, tilting her head up to look at him. "You look a little pale. Oh, Draco! You didn't sneak out of the Hospital Wing, did you?" she exclaimed worriedly.

_Say no… say no… __**but I did**__… SAY NO, DAMNIT!_ "No. I didn't," said Draco, after a very long pause where he did not say anything. _Go on… _"Do not worry, Weasley girl. You will be safe with me." _Excellent… well done, you might actually do this job well…_

Ginny turned to stare at him. "Why are you calling me that?" she asked, suspicious. The necklace was glowing on her collarbone brightly as her wary emotions lit up the sensitive onyx. _Excellent… the Stone will soon be mine…__** no! I won't let you kill her! Let me free! Ginny – Ginny! Please!**_

"It is your name," replied Draco – or rather, Lord Voldemort. "Now, come."

"No," said Ginny. There was fear in her eyes. "We're not allowed out, Draco, and you're scaring me. You're not well – go back to the Hospital Wing." She started to back away. "I'm sorry."

"COME WITH ME!" Draco roared. He reached out and snatched her wrist, gripping it hard. "Ginny…" the real Draco rasped, pushing past Lord Voldemort for just a few seconds. _Damnit! How did you get past me! Shut it._

"Draco, what's wrong with you?" cried Ginny. "Ow – let _go _of me – Draco, ouch – please – Draco, you're hurting me!"

"Then _come_," growled Draco. "I'm not going to hurt you…"

"You _are _hurting me," Ginny pointed out crossly, but the Dark Lord dragged her down the corridor. "Where are we going anyway?"

_**LET ME GO! Ginny, run away! My lord, please, just take the necklace! Spare her! DON'T MAKE ME KILL HER! Ginny, Ginny, RUN, just go!**_

"That does not matter," Draco said briskly, and hauled her towards the statue of the hunchback. Every step was stiff, as every muscle battled against Lord Voldemort, fighting for purchase to throw him off. _**Oh, why didn't I pay attention to Mad-Eye Moody in fourth-year?**_

_Say 'dissendium'… say 'dissendium'… tap the statue with your wand… tap the statue…_ Teeth gritted in pain and the struggle with the Dark Lord inside his head, Draco grunted, "Dissendium," and tapped the statue. "In you go," he informed Ginny as a passageway opened in the wall.

She gave him a frightened, cautious look, but stepped through the doorway. "Doesn't this lead to Hogsmeade?" Ginny asked. "I think Harry showed me this passageway one, when we were grounded by Umbridge."

"It does," said Draco. His legs were rigid but his brain was forcing him to walk down the small steps. "We are going to Hogsmeade."

"Draco, I don't think that's a good idea, not with these attacks," Ginny reproached him. "Come on, let's go back. We can play Gobstones, and I'll be easy on you this time," she teased. Draco shook his head firmly, and marched on.

_**PLEASE stop it! I'll just get the necklace, and you can have it, and I'll never bother you again, I swear! Just – please – GINNY!! Ginny! Gin, can you hear me! Please… argh… TALK, MOUTH, TALK!**_

"Ginny," the real Draco ground out through a clenched jaw. She looked curiously at him, but the Dark Lord took over his senses and his body before he could say any more.

"What?" Ginny said irritably. "You've been doing that for five minutes now. Just saying my name and then shutting up. It's really annoying." She folded her arms across her chest. "You know what, Draco? You're basically ignoring when all I've done is be nice to you, so…" she threw her hands into the air, as an _I-give-up_ gesture. "So screw Hogsmeade. I'm going back to Gryffindor tower."

"NO!" barked Draco. "You're coming with me." He grabbed her elbow and held it tighter than ever. "It's a nice surprise. I want you to see it."

Ginny turned pink, but she glared at him. "For someone who wants to show me a nice surprise, you're not being very nice to start with," she snapped. "Will you let _go_?" She tried to wrench her arm away, but he was too strong.

The end of the tunnel was in sight. Draco knew that soon he would be out, and he would have to kill Ginny… _go to the Shrieking Shack… don't tell her anything… lie… I will meet you there…_ said the Dark Lord. He walked towards the trapdoor which lead into Honeydukes, his legs taut and unbending with his efforts to stop his own actions. "You first," he said, opening the trapdoor and holding it for her. "…_Gin-_" this time, Draco didn't even finish the 'ny' of her name before Lord Voldemort cut in.

They crept through Honeydukes, and then walked smartly down the street. "Draco, everyone can see us," she hissed. "We're going to get into loads of trouble. We might even be expelled! Please, let's just go back! Please, Draco?" she begged, tugging on his arm. He did not let go, however, and Draco knew, in the recesses of his mind that she was scared of him.

"We are nearly there," Draco said flatly. _**Please, Draco, talk to her, get her away! Help her, save her – DRACO, you're stronger than this!**_"Not far now."

Ginny thinned her lips, but she stumbled along after him. "Why are we going to the Shrieking Shack?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly as they passed shop after shop after shop, until all that remained was the Shrieking Shack that could be their destination.

"I want to …" Draco fought to keep the words back, and input his own. "I want to… give you… _surprise_!" he spat out the last word quite fiercely as Lord Voldemort forced it out violently from his mouth, the real Draco struggling desperately to change his actions.

Ginny seemed astonished by his outburst, and she stopped momentarily – Draco didn't, so she was pulled forwards harshly and she fell to the ground. "Ow!" she muttered, but Draco still wasn't stopping. He was hauling her towards the Shrieking Shack, not deterred by the fact that she had fallen. "What is _with _you?" she shrieked. She was getting more and more frightened with every second that passed. She wasn't sure who it was, but this was definitely not Draco acting.

_**Ginny, are you alright? Gahh! STOP, help her up, she's hurt herself! STOP! STUPID LEGS! No, no, no…**_

They slipped over the fence that kept the people of Hogsmeade from the Shrieking Shack, and padded through the thick marsh. "Draco, we're not allowed here, and we're not allowed out of the school grounds! We are breaking a thousand rules – Draco, you're going to get us expelled, and you're – OW – _hurting _me! Please, stop it!"

Draco and Ginny entered the Shrieking Shack, and then, finally he let her go. Ginny was staring up at him – he looked the image of agony. He was twisting and jerking as he stood, a vein pulsing in his temple, sweating terribly, half-formed words coming from his mouth as he wrestled with his own brain. _**Lord Voldemort is coming! I have to get her out of here…**_

"Ginny…" he gasped.

"What?" Ginny asked, pressing herself, scared, against the wall. "What is it, Draco?"

"Ginny… go… _now…_" he choked out, still having an involuntary muscle spasm. "Go… out… shack…"

"What – why?" Ginny was starting to shake. "Draco, what's wrong? What's going on? Where's the surprise?" she cried. Tears were glossing over her amazing, round hazel eyes. "Please, tell me what's wrong!"

"_Go…_ Gin…" finally, he forced out the word he had been struggling for the whole time. "IMPERIUS…"

Ginny gasped.

"Imper – Gin… _go_… Lord… Vold… _now_…" he collapsed on the ground. Every muscle in his body was being told to do two different things, and they couldn't cope. "Go!" he yelled, dragging himself to his feet, sweat dripping from his platinum hair.

Ginny was now shaking uncontrollably. "Okay," she said, and, grabbing Draco's hand, tried to run with him.

"_Leave him_."

The cold, high-pitched voice shocked both of them. Ginny whirled around; Draco remained twitching and convulsing by the wall. "No!" Ginny cried, stumbling backwards.

Lord Voldemort flicked his wand, and Draco fell to the ground, the Imperius curse broken. "Thank you, Draco. You have been of the utmost importance in this plan," he said icily. "I couldn't have gotten the Weasley brat here to kill her without you."

"Over..." Draco grunted, getting to his feet. "…over my… dead body…" He staggered in front of Ginny, spreading his weak arms out in a feeble attempt to protect. "_Ginny… give me your wand…_" he whispered to her behind him. Her breathing fast and shallow with fear on his damp neck, she slipped it into his pocket, and Draco wrapped his slim, sweaty fingers around it.

"Very well," sneered the Dark Lord. "I'm not picky."

As he raised his wand, Draco drew his, putting all of his strength into pulling out quickly, and then yelled, "Confringo!" The wood on the roof exploded in a ball of flames, and then fell onto Lord Voldemort. The Dark Wizard was distracted, and, in that moment, Draco spun, grabbed Ginny, and ran with her through a winding corridor in the shack that he knew lead to the Whomping Willow.

"Go, Ginny," he urged as he staggered up the passageway with her. "Go through there – you'll come out of the Whomping Willow on the Hogwarts grounds. Get the teachers. Lord Voldemort's already raised his Death Eaters. They're going to attack. Meet them in Hogsmeade before they get to the castle, to cut off possible damage. Get everyone up – _GO_!"

"Draco," Ginny said, stopping and turning around. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why am I doing what?" Draco said, acting as though he didn't know what she was talking about.

"Saving me – Draco, don't pretend that you don't understand. You're a -" she paused, knowing that it was dangerous territory to discuss with Draco, before bursting out, "You're a Death Eater, Draco, and he's your leader! He wanted me – why did you disobey him?"

"It doesn't matter," Draco said hurriedly, feeling his face heat up. "Go, back to Hogwarts. I'll distract He-Who-Must – You-Know – the Dark –" he took a deep breath, "Voldemort."

"It _does _matter," Ginny cried. "Tell me, or I'm not going!"

"No!" Draco yelled.

"TELL ME!" She was shouting now, her hair tousled in anger, cheeks red, hazel eyes glow, the Stone of Montol sparkling, lips slightly parted as she breathed hard from running, shouting, and a combination of fear, anticipation, and something else in her expression that Draco did not recognize. She was so beautiful, just standing there in all of her fiery glory, and it that moment Draco knew that he would probably be killed by the Death Eaters or the battle about to ensue, and that he would probably never get a chance to tell the only person in the entire world how he felt –

And Draco kissed her.

He couldn't stop himself, he simply grabbed hold of her shoulders, and crushed her lips under his. It was the most amazing moment of his life, but the saddest with that, too – bittersweet was an understatement. If Draco was going to die, then he wanted this to go to his grave with him, the feel of Ginny and her long, messy red hair tangled between his fingers, her lips softly moving beneath his, capturing his lips time and time again in the most magical thing he'd ever felt. Time was the cruellest thing in the world, because she couldn't stay in his arms forever, pressed against his chest, her mouth under his.

When he pulled back just enough so that he could quietly murmur against her lips, "Go, Ginny", she opened her eyes and stared up into his own eyes, hazel into blue. She flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tight, tears spilling over, brushing her lips against his, and then turned on her heel and ran.

_I'm in way over my head_. Feeling as though he would either laugh, die or burst into tears, Draco turned back down the corridor to where he knew that Lord Voldemort was waiting.

It was time.

**A/N:** Yes, in apology for the previous rubbish chapter, I gave you a Ginevra-Drakonus snoggie! Yayyyyy. –happydance- I'm such a wimp, I actually had tears in my eyes when I was writing this, I was so happy and sad at the same time! I'm a loser! LOSERS ROCK!


	41. The Brave The Loved and The Death Eaters

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Early March. Omg, I'm getting so sad! This is nearly oveerrr! –sniff- Be warned, this chapter contains character death. And swearing. Have fun.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO STARLESS BY CROSSFADE WHILE READING THIS. IT MAKES IT BETTER.**

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty-One: The Brave, The Loved and The Death Eaters**_

_**GINNY**_

"_Go, Ginny," he urged as he staggered up the passageway with her. "Go through there – you'll come out of the Whomping Willow on the Hogwarts grounds. Get the teachers. Lord Voldemort's already raised his Death Eaters. They're going to attack. Meet them in Hogsmeade before they get to the castle, to cut off possible damage. Get everyone up – GO!"_

_Feeling as though he would either laugh, die or burst into tears, Draco turned back down the corridor to where he knew that Lord Voldemort was waiting._

_It was time._

…

Ginny burst through the Entrance Hall doors, swinging them madly behind her. To her relief, all the Professors were gathered in the Hall, and staring at her shocking arrival – hair dishevelled, wood dust smeared on her face from the explosion, bruises on her wrist and elbow… not to mention the fact that she wasn't supposed to leave the common room aside from meals and classes.

"Miss Weasley, what the devil were you doing outside?" snapped Professor Snape, striding forwards.

"The Death Eaters are attacking!" Ginny cried. "We have to go and fight them – in Hogsmeade!" When the professors only stared, puzzled, at her, she shouted, "NOW!"

Professor McGonagall shared a glance with Professor Sinistra. "Miss Weasley, come on. You will have a detention for leaving your common room when strictly instructed not to," she said briskly, "and you will return to the common room with me."

Ginny gaped at them. "Did you not hear what I just said?? _The Death Eaters are attacking_!" she bellowed. Seeing their expressions, she continued, "Don't ask me how I know, don't ask me why I was outside, and don't ask me why I look like I just watched a bomb land. Just _trust me_! I was right about my dad being attacked, I was right about Percy, I was right about Draco being tortured – TRUST ME!"

"Where are they?" demanded Umbridge, looking terrified.

"I don't know," confessed Ginny. "But I know that they're coming to Hogwarts _right now_, and they're coming through Hogsmeade. We need to meet them in the village, or Hogwarts will be destroyed."

"Get the other teachers," commanded McGonagall to Flitwick; the midget Professor scurried away up the stairs.

"And the students, too," added Ginny. "We don't have enough Professors to match the Death Eaters. Every teacher, every student, every animal that Hagrid owns, every house-elf, every ghost – not a soul in Hogwarts is going to be left out of the fight. If we want to win, we need an team to beat theirs… we need an army."

McGonagall nodded, and said, "Sonorus…" then, she took a deep breath and said sharply, "ALL STUDENTS TO THE GREAT HALL! ALL STUDENTS TO THE GREAT HALL _IMMEDIATELY_! This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill! Bring your wands! This is not a drill! ALL PROFESSORS, STUDENTS, GHOSTS," she glanced at Ginny, who mouthed, _house-elves_, "AND HOUSE-ELVES TO THE GREAT HALL!"

As the message boomed through the castle, Ginny was left standing silently. She realized that she did not have her wand – Draco had it. Trying to push back thoughts that threatened to tear her heart into pieces (_"TELL ME!" and then he bent his head and kissed her, hard_), she borrowed Professor Trelawney's wand, screwed up her face and muttered, "Accio Draco's wand," before handing the mystical Divination teacher's wand back.

As Draco's long, dark mahogany wand zoomed from the dungeons and landed in Ginny's hand, the Professors gathered in the Entrance Hall made their way to the dining room. With a sweep of their wands, the tables disappeared, and they marched up to the raised dais for the second time in two days.

Ginny made her way into the corner, but McGonagall looked her in the eye and she knew that she was being instructed to go and stand on the dais with them.

Hagrid lumbered in. "Yes, Headmistress Umbridge?" he asked hastily, bowing slightly, his shabby moleskin coat brushing the floor.

"Get the animals," cut in McGonagall. "Every one of them. Dangerous or not. Threstrals, knarls, the sphinx, acromantulas, crups, bowtruckles, nogtails, fire crabs, centaurs, chizpurfles, griffins, clabberts, winged horses, streelers, unicorns, red caps, dugbogs, salamanders, gnomes, hippogriffs, kneazle, pixies… get Fawkes, as well. If you can get your… little brother," McGonagall said pointedly, "then he would be of use, too. See if you can find that troll you set loose last year."

"Yes, McGonagall," said Hagrid loyally, and he thundered out of the Great Hall again, already crowing with many different animalistic cries.

Before he had even left the Entrance Hall, the late Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, swooped in, and landed on the podium, cooing softly to himself. Ginny moved towards him and gently scratched the top of his head. They seemed to fit together – fiery girl with fiery bird. Fawkes had been reborn in January, so he was strong and fit for battle today.

"Fawkes," Ginny said quietly as the first students began piling into the Hall, all voicing their surprise and wonderment as to why Ginny was on the dais, "you're going to be a healer for today. If you see or sense anyone injured, then you fly to them immediately and… well, just do your thing."

The beautiful bird turned his head slightly towards her and nodded his gleaming beak as if he understood. Then he cawed loudly, stretching his wings majestically and flapping them for a second before folding them back to his body again.

"Good boy," said Ginny, smiling fondly at the bird. She had always loved Fawkes – he had saved Harry's life when she was eleven.

Ginny's group of eight came into the Hall at that moment; Ron spluttered like a dying fire, Harry stared incredulously and Hermione frowned at the absurdity of having a student on the dais. Ginny nodded at them all, as well as Luna and Myrtle when they came in, but did not smile. Now was not a time for smiling.

When the last of the students piled through the doors, Professor Umbridge stood by the podium. She scowled at Fawkes and shooed her hands at him, who hooted indignantly and took off, landing on Professor Sinistra's tall hat.

"Students," she said. All of the breathiness and girly saccharine sweetness had disappeared from her voice in this danger. "The school is in immense danger -" gasps rose from the teenage audience "-and… well. I do not know much of what is actually happening… but I know someone who does."

Ginny felt colour rising to her face, and she determinedly looked at the wall at the back of the Hall, ignoring the thousands of stares that she was receiving.

"Please… Miss Ginevra Weasley," finished Umbridge, and she shuffled back into the crowd of staff.

With a glance at Fawkes to reassure her, she stepped up to the podium and looked at the students of Hogwarts… She realized that everyone was staring at her, and knew instantly what to say.

"Hogwarts. It's the most amazing place in the world. It's where I really feel at home. I love the castle… I love the grounds… and I love the people in it," she said clearly, projecting her voice across the large chamber. "Before me are the students that I love, even if they're spiteful Slytherins, or if they're annoying Gryffindors, or stupid Hufflepuffs, or obnoxious Ravenclaws. I love them all – and I never want to see them slaughtered like pigs on a pork farm."

Everyone was glaring at her at her descriptions of their houses, but she wasn't just insulting their houses… she was insulting her own. And she was saying that she loved them. And somehow the school was in danger. Every face spoke the same thing: _WHAT?_

Ginny took another deep breath, and continued. "However, if we sit around right now… we are going to be slaughtered like pigs on a pork farm. I'm not trying to scare you all when I say… Lord Voldemort is attacking," she said.

Every mouth fell open, and then every pair of eyes swivelled towards Harry, obviously thinking, _wait, I thought it was Harry's job to be all 'oh no, quick everyone, the Dark Lord's attacking'._ Then they all stared at Ginny again.

"He's got an army of Death Eaters, the raised Dead, the Inferi, and the Cursed," Ginny explained. "Please… don't ask me how I know all of this – I just do. The army is coming. Now. They're going to be travelling through Hogsmeade to get to the castle, and we're going to meet them there before they can even get to Hogwarts. Third-years and under will stay in the Hogwarts library with Madam Pince and one of the Professors. Everyone else… will fight."

There was a stunned silence. Then, as Hagrid opened the Entrance Hall doors and yelled inside, "I'VE GOT 'EM!", everyone burst into nervous, terrified chatter. Across the vast chamber, Harry and Ginny's eyes collided. She stared into the glowing emeralds before tearing her eyes away and yelling to the room, "GET MOVING EVERYONE!"

Madam Pince and Professor Trelawney ushered the younger adolescents up the stairs towards the library, and everyone else began to file out onto the grounds. They awkwardly moved towards Hogsmeade. A jittery feeling was passing through the air and was felt by all present.

Ginny gripped Draco's wand tighter. It felt strange and unfamiliar under her fingers; the fact that it was _his_ didn't help… _"TELL ME!" she shouted, and then he bent his head and kissed her, hard_ – she shook her head abruptly. _No. Don't even think about that_.

Holding her arm out for Fawkes to come and sit on, Ginny followed the hoard of students through the gardens, and she found herself looking up at the evening sky, locating the brightest star and wishing fervently that Draco would be okay.

She wasn't sure which side he was fighting for – theirs, or Lord Voldemort's. Her stomach lurched as she thought, _what if I am faced against him? I would… I would have to kill him_. As her wand-hand trembled, she stamped her foot and slapped herself, hard, to get the thoughts away (a few fourth-years looked at her nervously), before determinedly meeting Fawkes' gaze and storming ahead.

The animals could smell danger, and they were raring to go – literally. The younger students were all, quite _coincidentally_, as far away from the bucking, rearing, screaming, squawking beasts as possible.

They were nearing the gates to Hogsmeade. In the far distance, crossing the hills, Ginny saw a terrifying crowd of black. There was a tiny cry, and then the Dark Mark swirled into the sky. Sharply inhaled breaths, swoons and the odd shriek flew up from the people of Hogwarts, but Hagrid bellowed, "KEEP GOING!"

Through the gates… _oh God oh God_… down the path… _no, no, please, I don't want to do this_… and… halt.

Feeling like the cowardly soldier who was too young to be in the army, Ginny gripped her wand tightly. "Have your wands ready," she called. Her voice was quiet, but, in the utter silence that filled Hogsmeade, everyone heard. A few of the village people came out from their shuttered houses to join the 'Hogwarts Army', as it might be called – witches and wizards holding wands, Squibs and the occasional Muggle holding shotguns.

"Breathe, Ginny, breathe," she said to herself, feeling her windpipe constrict. _Don't you dare start hyperventilating! This is important, damnit!_ She pursed her lips together, breathing slowly and deeply through her nose.

And then she, along with about seven hundred others, waited fearfully and apprehensively for the fight to begin.

The wind blew back their hair from their faces, billowing their cloaks behind them. It seemed as if time had stopped – but still the Death Eaters came. As Lord Voldemort's army drew closer, Ginny could make out the faces of those at the front. Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange. Travers. Crabbe. Goyle. Nott. Jugson. Rabastan. Avery. Macnair. Antonin Dolohov. Mulciber. Pettigrew.

But where was Lord Voldemort?

He wasn't there, which Ginny deemed rather odd. Why have your men (and women) have the fun _for _you? It was all rather bizarre – but she knew that her brain was only spitting out these thoughts to try and block out what she had to do next… fight – attack – _kill_.

"You ready?" Ginny asked kindly to a shaking fourth-year Ravenclaw beside her. He stared at her, and then gave a short nod, looking forwards again to hide the sweat dripping from his brown hair, and to hide the fear in his eyes. Knowing the truth, Ginny murmured, more to herself than to the boy, "me neither."

For what seemed like hours, standing beneath the glow of the moon and the sparkle of the disgustingly cheerful stars, both sides waited impatiently. Then, as if someone had shouted to both armies "GO!" they exploded forwards.

The staff ran first – they were at the front. Then, with a thundering that could probably be heard from space, the animals were released. And then… the students.

By the time that it was Ginny's turn to race forwards, wand in hand, there was already blood and dead bodies littering the scene – there were few, and they were all Death Eaters… but it wasn't enough.

The hippogriffs and the griffins ripped at the other side with their claws, the trolls and Grawp, Hagrid's little half-brother, a young giant, crushing and crunching everything in their path. The centaurs were loosing arrows faster than anything Ginny had ever seen before, and the streelers, giant toxic snails, were eating Death Eaters whole.

Ginny ran, shooting spells in all directions. She was fighting the battle, as she kept reminding herself, but more than anything she was scanning the crowd for a glimpse of dishevelled platinum-blonde.

Then, there was a shout that Ginny had heard many times before.

Ron.

She wheeled around, wand held high, turning back the other way and running. There he was, lying in the dirt on his back, twisting in throes of agony as Dolohov stood over him, flashing out a Cruciatus curse. "Avada ked-"

"STUPEFY!" Ginny yelled.

Dolohov gave an odd sort of yelping noise, and then keeled over backwards, unconscious. Ron, panting and sweating, climbed to his feet and stumbled against Ginny, who still had her wand pointed at the passed out Death Eater.

"Incarcerous," she panted, and long black ropes shot from her wand, twining around Dolohov and wrapped tight around him – when he woke up, he would not be able to get away. "Come on, Ron," she soothed, dragging him to his feet. "It's okay."

Ron, still gasping for breath, bent over and leaning his hands on his knees, nodded. It was that one movement that caused emotion to rush into Ginny… Ron was a conceited, stupid, arrogant, nosy git – but he was also her _brother_. He was _her _conceited, stupid, arrogant, nosy git, and she would be devastated if he was hurt.

"Be careful," she said to him, not finding the words that she longed to _really _say, and, leaving her unsaid feelings hovering in the air, she ran back into the fight.

Ginny was getting gradually used to the feel of Draco's wand in the place of her own, and, sliding her fingers to hold it better, aimed at a floating Inferi, clinging to a fifth-year and pulling it into the air. "Impendetia!" she cried. The beam of white light punched a hole through the Inferi's stomach; it dropped the fifth-year painfully onto the ground, and then disappeared forever in a wisp of smoke.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked concernedly, running to the girl who had been throttled by the departed soul. The fifth-year did not answer. She took one last, long, rattling breath and then her head lolled back. Feeling sick to her stomach, Ginny stood, turned on her heel and raised her wand to the sky.

"Shamira inderpal dilpmund," she muttered, drawing shapes in the sky. She called upon her Black magic, and pulled it out, sketching it out into the sky. To the naked eye, it would seem as though she was merely casting golden bubbles to the heavens, but, with the work of a trained Black magician's wand, one might see golden shields appearing and enclosing every member of Hogwarts.

To protect so many would mean that the wards would be thin, but they were still stronger than any White magic wards. Also, the wards would feed off of her physical strength, and she would be defenceless to attacks, apart from what she already had – next to nothing.

Ginny cut off the bubbles, having warded everyone she wanted to, and then ran forwards.

"Oh, hello, my pretty, long time no see!"

Ginny whirled around. There stood Bellatrix Lestrange, grinning maliciously in all of her evil glory, letting out a quiet, 'hehehe' of malevolent pleasure.

The sixteen-year-old whirled her wand quickly, and cried, "PROTEGO!" as she sensed what was coming. The curse that Bellatrix shot bounced off, though it made Ginny stumble backwards. "Stupefy!"

Bellatrix ducked, and the red light whizzed over her head, burning one long black curl. "Hey, I just got my hair cut!" Bellatrix snarled. "AVADA KEDAV-"

"Incarcerous!" Ginny shouted.

Again, black ropes caught Bellatrix, squeezing tight. The female Death Eater collapsed and writhed as the ropes slowly cracked her ribcage. "Diffindo," she spat, and her bindings cut. "How's your stomach healing, Weasley? – SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Ginny turned quickly. The seven purple slashes skimmed over her skin, not going deep – but enough to draw blood and send it gliding down her pale cheeks and her school uniform. She winced in pain, hastily wiping her face with her sleeve, and sending her strongest Bat-Bogey Hex flying at Bellatrix.

The Death Eater yelped, and Ginny turned away. She'd seen the effects enough times, and it wasn't particularly pleasant. She had more important things to deal with, anyway.

The movements of a thousand feet had turned the firm Hogsmeade ground into a thick, sloshy mud like that of the Goblin Wars battlefields, and Ginny had difficulty moving through. As she saved herself from falling flat on her face, a large, glowing phoenix landed on her arm.

"No, Fawkes, I'm fine. Go and heal people who need it more," she ordered, "I'm fine."

Fawkes clicked his beaks, but obediently swooped away, the edge of his left wing clipping Ginny's ear softly. She didn't watch him zoom away; she jogged forwards, shining her wand-light around in the night. Evening had long since passed, and the darkness was almost as terrifying as the battle around.

"TIAMAT!"

Ginny swirled around. Avery was staring her in the face, laughing as blood poured down from her back. "_Smitius_!" she bellowed. Avery was knocked backwards – that'd bruise in the morning.

If he made it to the morning.

The air grew hot and crackled with the exchanging of spells. Light sparked and embered brightly, leaving momentarily-lasting imparts on Ginny's eyes, as she sent jinx after jinx towards Avery. They weren't neat, and they weren't concentrated; she was just firing them hectically. She did not care if they hit his head or his stomach or his leg, just as long as it hit him.

"_Duro_!" Ginny shouted. An invisible wall appeared in front of Avery, and he slammed into it. There was a sickening crunch of bones, but, this matter aside, she dissolved the wall with a quick counter-jinx and bound him with the same curse as Dolohov.

Somehow, though, Avery managed to lift his wand through his broken bones, and gasp out, "CRUCIO!"

Ginny's head exploded. Everything was swirling, and she screamed, screamed, _screamed_ – but, strangely enough, she couldn't even hear herself over the thundering and yelling and screeching of the battle. She fell to her knees, twisting frantically. _MAKE THE PAIN STOP! __**MAKE THE PAIN STOP**_

She clawed at her own face, desperate for anything to hold onto, anything to stop the pain. It racked through her, pulling every muscle and ligament and bone, tugging them apart and letting them ping back together.

"_Flagrate_!"

A terrible, anguished scream rose from Ginny's area of the battlefield – but it wasn't Ginny. It was Avery. Dennis Creevey had leapt in front of her, defending her, and had stopped the Cruciatus charm by setting Avery on fire.

Melting skin is not a pretty sight.

Dennis ran to Ginny's side and crouched beside her. "Ginny, are you okay?" he said urgently.

Ginny, wheezing for air, allowed the younger boy to drag her into a standing position, and then, shaking her head to clear the after-effects of the Unforgivable Curse, looked in horror at Avery. "Good God, Dennis," she said, "and to remember that I thought you were an innocent little kid! Thanks."

"Anytime," replied Dennis, eyeing the slowly liquefying Death Eater with disdain. "Wow. That really is the grossest spell I've ever used."

"Come on, Den, let's go," Ginny said, sparing one last glance at Avery. _I won't bind him – it's useless. He can't hurt anyone like that_. However, she was terribly wrong.

As she and Dennis turned, there was a tortured scream of "AVADA KEDAVRA!", choked out in a sound only made by an agonized man with dissolving vocal chords.

Instinctively, Ginny turned, but before she could even finish spinning to protect her and Dennis, she saw the flash of green light, heard the rush of speeding death, saw the last smile ever to grace Avery's face… and then Dennis fell.

"_NO_!" cried Ginny, but it was too late. All that she could do was lunge out and catch the falling fourteen-year-old before he crashed into the mud. Dennis Creevey was still warm, not yet greying and turning stiff with lack of heartbeat pulsing through his small, skinny body; his chocolate-brown eyes wide and staring; his last words, his last expression still frozen on his face – forever.

Feeling tears sting, Ginny rested her hand over his large, long-lashed eyes, closing the eyes of the boy who would be forever fourteen when his two-year-old brother was eighty. Then, feelings her shoulders shake with despair and anger, she stood and walked away. She would tell Colin later.

Dennis Creevey was the first of the brave to die – the first of many more to come.

**A/N:** Sorry, but I was struck by an urge to kill Dennis. Sorry to Dennis fans. –dodges being pelted by rotten tomatoes- Don't worry, more will die. I have decided, so far, on two teachers, two important animals, and one person from each house. Well, that's, like, the important people. Then there's the unimportant fourth-years who no-one actually knows. Anyway… please review.


	42. Into The Skirmish

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Early March. ARGH! Story… getting… close… to end…-sadness- Warning, more character death in this chappie. TOUGH LUCK. More language, blah blah blah. Enjoooyy.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO TRUTH BY SEETHER WHILE YOU READ THIS. IT MAKES IT BETTER.**

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty-Two: Into The Skirmish**_

_**DRACO**_

Draco moved swiftly back down the corridor. His heart was pounding and he was terrified – yet, somewhere, in what seemed like a distant land that was many miles away, he was floating. Floating with the memory of Ginny's lips on his. He pushed that to the back of his mind, and focused on the smouldering embers at the end of the tunnel, where the Dark Lord surely waited.

"Hello?" he asked, poking his head out of the end of the tunnel. He didn't bother with a 'my Lord' – that would only equal as grovelling to Lord Voldemort, and Drakonus Ophius Malfoy did not grovel.

The instant that any portion of Draco's anatomy left the safety of the slender walkway, an explosion of flame greeted him, sent by Lord Voldemort's angry wand. It burned terribly, but did not catch fire to his hair or skin, thankfully, and Draco hid back again, before leaping out.

He jumped past the billowing fire, and landed nimbly on his feet, standing, legs parted in a battle stance, opposite the Dark Lord who had menaced the past seventeen years of his life. Draco flexed his long fingers on Ginny's wand (_damn! I forgot to give it back! Ginny's defenceless to the wrath of the Death Eaters_, a part of his brain panicked) and stared levelly into the narrow crimson slits that represented Lord Voldemort's eyes.

"So, Malfoy," sneered Lord Voldemort.

"Junior," interrupted Draco. "I'm Malfoy _Junior_. Just because my father's dead doesn't mean that he never existed." His words were cold and aloof; he no longer cared that he would be punished for his unfriendliness.

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed. He eyed Draco lethally, as if contemplating whether to kill, torture, scream at or ignore this impertinent teenager. After a moment's study, he said, "Very well. Malfoy… Junior."

"Yes?" asked Draco insolently. He was being blatantly rude, but that was why he was here. Anger Lord Voldemort, weaken him, and, most of all, keep him distracted so that he couldn't go to the battlefield. The instant that he set foot into Hogsmeade, the whole war was pretty much determined. If the Dark forces could be weakened and nearly destroyed before their key element – Lord Voldemort – got there, then maybe, _maybe_ they could actually win.

"I see that you've changed sides," Lord Voldemort said conversationally, though his voice was dangerously calm and very soft.

"That observation took you long enough," said Draco, tilting his head slightly sideways, as he was regarding the Dark Lord with distaste and wondering.

Lord Voldemort's lip curled. "Interesting, isn't it, how all it takes to make a man out of a hormonal teenager is a few months with a beautiful girl?" he sneered.

"Leave her out of this," snapped Draco. "Don't think that you can get me back on your side. You tortured me for a week and you murdered my parents – _ooh yes, I'll join you Lordie_!" he simpered, mocking a high-pitched, stupid voice imitating what a fool he would have to be to join the Death Eaters.

Red eyes narrowed further.

"Listen – _Tom_ -"

"YOU DARE!" spat Lord Voldemort, holding his wand up close to Draco's face.

"No, no, don't interrupt," Draco chided, "it's rude. I wasn't finished – _Tom Marvolo Ridd-_"

"CRUCIO!"

Draco's taunting was cut off and transformed into a scream of agony. He stumbled backwards, curling his hands into claws – memories were flashing back… "No, no, _no_!"

_Blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death._

"It's fake," Draco ground out past the incredible pain. "It's all fake. She's alive… she's-"

"Are you sure, Malfoy?" sniped Lord Voldemort cruelly. "The battle of Hogsmeade has already started. The killing has begun. She could lying in the mud, choking on her own blood, bawling her eyes out because no-one cares enough to save her-"

Before Draco could try and be rational about what he wanted to do, he ran forwards, his hands still in claw-shapes, and flew at the sneering, evil man in front of him. Draco got in three or four decent punches before the spell hit him in the chest and sent him flying backwards.

He landed, hard, on his back, so that the air was knocked out of his lungs, and he lay in the dirt, winded and helpless. Draco tried to find the sarcasm that was always at his aid, but it had somehow disappeared. Finally, he choked out, "damn."

"_Damn _indeed, Malfoy," Lord Voldemort snapped. "I recommend that you don't talk to me like that – and do not attack me. I am taller, stronger, wiser and more powerful than you are… and, I daresay, more than you will ever be." He twirled his wand between his long, cold fingers. "Hm… do you think I should kill you _now_… or later?"

_Plan, plan, plan… __**gotcha**_ Draco staggered to his feet, weak and tired. His fingers clung to his wand for something to focus on, and then he slowly lifted his chin. "How about…" he gasped, and then the rest of his sentence were lost.

"What?" Lord Voldemort was getting angry. His eyes were slits now, glaring crimson.

"I _said_…" Draco wheezed. "How about NEVER!"

In an instant, he had straightened up, brandished his wand, cried out, "STUPEFY!" and, once the Dark Lord was flat on his back, unconscious, Draco turned and sprinted for the battlefield. "Colloportus – impentrio," he panted, waving his wand at the door to the Shrieking Shack after he had closed it. The door slammed tight and locked. Lord Voldemort would be delayed getting the battlefield.

After he woke up, that is.

Draco sprinted through the marsh, feeling his knees get pulled down. As he drew closer to Hogsmeade, he saw the chaos that was taking place there. Blood – bodies – curses – screaming – shouting – crazed animals – it was like something from a nightmare. Then, the nightmare developed into a lurid bloodbath when two demented, murderous, full-grown dragons swooped into the scene.

"Oh, come on," he groaned. "You have to be freakin' _kidding _me."

However, the dragons were real, and so was everything else; Draco tightened his grip on Ginny's wand and raced forwards into the battle. Almost instantly, he spotted a disgustingly familiar head of tight, messy black curls. "Hey!" Draco bellowed at her.

Bellatrix whirled around. She had trails of green slime and scratches lining her face; she did not look good. She caught sight of Draco and her lip curled into a menacing leer.

"Miss me?" Draco growled.

"Hell, yeah!" Bellatrix snarled. "CRUCIO!"

Draco leapt sideways and narrowly dodged the beam of blue light. "Bring it, bitch," he yelled at her. "_Impendetia!_" Bellatrix stumbled backwards, bruises forming instantly on her face as she pummelled by Draco's spell.

"Come on, darling!" crooned Bellatrix. "CRUCIO – just like old times, eh?" She fired three more well-aimed Cruciatus curses in his direction. Draco dodged these too, though the last brushed against his elbow and sent shooting pain ricocheting through his lower arm.

"In case you hadn't noticed," Draco shouted back. "I escaped the old times – so it'd be crap to try. Catch me if you can!" he wheeled around, racing back the other way. A slosh of footsteps informed him that his dear old aunt was following him. _Come on, come on…_ he weaved through a duel, ducking under fire, and then yelled in a high-pitched, female-impersonating voice, "OI, STUPID!"

Bain, a highly touchy centaur prince, spun around for the woman who had insulted him. "_Who dares insult Bain_?" he bellowed. He saw only a curly-haired Death Eater with a glare on her face, and heading towards her, letting arrows loose. Draco, seeing that Bellatrix was taken care of, raced away in the other direction to help.

"HELP!" screamed a girl's voice. "PLEASE!"

Draco ran faster, holding his wand high. There he saw an Inferi, holding a Ravenclaw girl in his year, Zhang or Chang or something like that. "Hang on!" he called to her, and took careful aim at the Inferi.

_If I miss… _Draco shook away his doubts. "Confringo!" he hollered. An explosion of flame billowed outwards, knocking the dead soul's head clean off. The Inferi gave a tortured howl before disappearing in a wisp of smoke. Then he hurried to the Ravenclaw. "Are you okay?"

The girl was famous for her long, shiny, black hair… but it had been burnt off, and her face held severe burns. Each harsh gasp sounded as though she was breathing water, and Draco knew with a sinking feeling of dread that Chang was bleeding internally.

"FAWKES!" Draco shouted. "FAWKES!" He knew that the phoenix had healing powers, and if the bird didn't arrive soon, then Chang didn't have a hope of surviving. "Hang on, Chang, help's coming," he reassured her, although he was very panicked.

"No," rattled Chang. "No… Fawkes can't help me… he won't get here in time… I can't… _breathe_ – _help -_" she wheezed, her breathing a ghastly gurgling. "Please… tell my… parents…and friends… I love -" she choked out, her murmurs bubbling and making vile splashing noises and her lungs continued to fill with her own blood.

"I will," Draco agreed. "I will, I promise. Chang… you did well. You did a really good job, and you've made us all proud," he said softly. If he was going to be the only witness to this Ravenclaw's death, then he wanted to make sure that the last thing she heard was kind and telling her that she was wonderful.

Chang jerked her head in a half-nod, before collapsing into the mud, blood trickling from the corner of her pink, tattered lips. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she moved no more.

Another gone.

Draco brushed back some of Chang's prized black hair from her face, and then straightened, gripping Ginny's wand. "Don't worry, Chang. I'll make sure we win this fight – for you and everyone else who has to lose their lives."

"Aw, how sentimental," someone cooed spitefully.

"Oh, _God_, not you again," Draco complained, turning to Bellatrix. "My, my, isn't 'sentimental' a bit long for you? I thought you generally stuck to the monosyllabic words. Clever, Lestrange." He eyed her, watching every movement of her body and every twitch of her fingers on her wand, predicting her next moves every second of the way. "Anyway, I thought Bain was dealing with you."

"Bain?" echoed Bellatrix nastily. "_Bain_? That filthy half-creature has a name? You disgust me, thinking that _I _could be brought down by a mongrel donkey."

Draco did not answer in a phrase: instead he shouted, "_STUPEFY! INCARCEOUS!"_

"Protego," said Bellatrix lazily. However, her pretence did not work as well as she might have liked – she was whacked backwards, landing hard on her rear. "Ooh, feisty, nephew."

Draco let out a yell of anger, and threw curses, jinxes and hexes galore at the female Lestrange. The rest of the battle blurred, the lines of reality and hell blurring into one big fiery panorama. Growls loosening from behind his gritted teeth, he saw the torture chamber again, saw Bellatrix cackling, saw the terrible things that he had been put through, saw her attempt to kill Ginny… "_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

Forget 'I'll never kill anyone'. Bellatrix tried to kill Draco – tried to kill _Ginny_. And now she would pay.

Bellatrix' eyes widened in genuine fear, and she began a violent slashing motion with her wand to protect her – but it was too late.

Draco felt anger and power surging through every inch of him, propelling itself out through Ginny's wand. Then green light flashed, and then was a deathly quiet, apart from the low, angry hissing of death as it sped towards Bellatrix. The green sailed past Bellatrix' flailing arms, and hit home.

The female Death Eater's eyes widened still, and she took a step backwards, as if in shock at what Draco was doing. However, she wasn't in shock. Because she was dead.

She fell to the ground, eyes bulging in her 'shock', and crumpled in the sludge. Draco's chest was heaving in fury as he stared down at her. Then, he started to feel horror levitate past his stomach and his heart…

_Look at her. She's dead. She's lifeless. She will never breathe again. Because of me. I killed her. I __**killed**__ her. I – am – a – murderer._

Feeling sick, Draco spun and ran, without any solemn memorial to close her vacant, staring eyes and respect her life (_as if I would anyway_, he thought dryly) and vanished into the skirmish around him.

**A/N:** YAY! Bellatrix Lestrange is finally dead! –happydance- And so is Cho Chang. – unhappydance- Oh well, I never really liked Cho anyway. –happydance- Okay, so far I've killed one Gryffindor, one Ravenclaw and two Death Eaters… that's one more Gryffindor, Huffelpuff, Slytherin to go! Please reviewww…


	43. Oversized Bats

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Gah. I'm not going to bother with what month it is, because its obviously still early March – all of Hogwarts and the Death Eaters aren't just going to simultaneously halt, and then continue the battle in May or whatever. Anyway. Enjoy.

Also, I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I had like three chapters ready, so I didn't have to do any typing, and I was free to PLAY MY NEW ELECTRIC GUITAR (WOOP! I got it for Christmas xD) so then when I ran out of pre-typed chapters, I had to start typing an entire chapter from scratch. Sorree.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty-Three: Over-sized Bats**_

_**GINNY AND DRACO**_

_Feeling tears sting, Ginny rested her hand over his large, long-lashed eyes, closing the eyes of the boy who would be forever fourteen when his two-year-old brother was eighty. Then, feelings her shoulders shake with despair and anger, she stood and walked away. She would tell Colin later._

_Dennis Creevey was the first of the brave to die – the first of many more to come._

…

_Feeling sick, Draco spun and ran, without any solemn memorial to close her vacant, staring eyes and respect her life (as if I would anyway, he thought dryly) and vanished into the skirmish around him._

…

Ginny held her wand tight. She wanted to kill Avery for murdering Dennis, but Avery was already dead. Collapsed on the ground – if it could be called like collapsing. _More like sitting in a puddle of his own skin_, Ginny thought bitterly. At least Dennis Creevey had done something good with his last few minutes. He had saved Ginny's life and killed an important Death Eater.

_An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. A life for a life._

Shaking the Muggle saying to the back of her mind, Ginny continued, looking for Draco, a Death Eater to fight, or something to give Hogwarts a personal advantage over the opposing army.

"Dragons!" she gasped, seeing two large, very angry winged-beast fly over that she recognized as a Ukrainian Ironbelly and a Hebridean Black.

One, the Ironbelly – giant, slow, metallic grey, particularly vicious talons and spiked tail - was currently pulling off a large acromantula's head, and the other, the Black – smaller, native to Britain, very aggressive, rough black scales that will graze bare skin, and a fire-shooting distance of about thirty feet – was swooping around like an over-sized bat, roaring menacingly and scorching everything it saw to dust.

Cogs were turning rapidly in Ginny's head as she stood stationary and quite defenceless.

_If I could control it…_

_Yes, Ginevra, that's all very well_, argued the sensible part of her mind, _but you've __**learnt**__ about this! They have very strong scales – they only have one sensitive spot of bare, un-scaled skin, which is under their ears…_

_Under their ears, eh?_

_DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!_

Too late.

Her face set into a determined frown, Ginny raced forwards. With every flap of its wings, the Hebridean Black swung its tail down earthwards to balance itself with the friendly force known as gravity – something that usually killed anyone standing below.

_If I time it right…_

_BLOODY FREAKING HELL, GINNY, NO WAY! NO – FREAKING – WAY! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF!_

_Then I'll have died for a good cause_, Ginny thought stubbornly, stowing Draco's wand safely into her pocket and still marching forwards. She then stopped, tilted her head right back so that her dark red hair almost reached her waist, and stared up at the fierce, blood-thirsty, teeth-gnashing dragon that she was about to board.

"Ready or not," muttered Ginny. Flap… flap… the dragon whirled fire… it was coming closer… flap… flap…_here it comes_ –

A hard, fast flap of the dragon's wings, and its long, muscular black tail swiped forwards – fast – fast – fast – _OH GOD, IT'S COMING, I'M GOING TO DIE_ – "I love you Draco," she whispered, deciding instantly on her last words, squeezing hazel tightly shut, and then, she leapt forwards, flinging her arms out.

A –

Moment –

Or –

A –

Lifetime –

_Passing_ –

_**WHACK**_.

Pain shook through Ginny, sending tremors and spasms all through her as she felt the tail meet her left arm, which apparently had not flung out far enough – there was a terrible _CRUNCH_, and then Ginny was standing on the arrowhead-shaped end of the tail.

She was _alive_.

"YES!" she whooped, but the word was sucked from her lips and scattered below as the Hebridean Black did its job… flying. She held on tightly for dear life as it plunged upwards – _upwards? Can you plunge upwards, _Ginny wondered, bemused – and only then dared to open her eyes.

Down below, many had stopped fighting, and were either: A) screaming, B) swooning, C) laughing, D) placing bets on whether she'd fall or the dragon would eat her, or E) staring in horror and fear.

Ignoring this, and the fact that Draco was probably below, tearing his hair out that she was putting herself in danger again, she squinted up (unfortunately, at the dragon's arse), her eyes streaming from the wind and the cold. The icy gusts were numbing her probably-broken arm, so the pain wasn't much of a problem.

Holding on tight, Ginny reached out and wrapped her fingers around one bright purple, shallow spike on the Black's tail, and pulled herself up with some difficulty. The spikes were slippery, and hard to hold onto, but she slowly scaled his tail, clambering up, a little like a bizarre, deadly, semi-frozen stepladder.

Luckily, so far, the dragon hadn't noticed that it had a small passenger clinging to him and hoping to possess his brain to do what she wanted, and Ginny was incredibly grateful for this to whoever controlled her life. She suddenly noticed that, gradually, as the Black's tail widened and disappeared into its body, it grew thicker, and therefore the spikes that Ginny was holding desperately onto grew further apart until she was basically sitting on its tail, straddled between the spikes.

"Well, damn," she said sarcastically, but her words were torn away by the whizzing air before she could hear her own voice. Faintly, and sounding very distant, Ginny heard Hermione's shriek of "Ginny!" She looked over her shoulder and down at her friend – bad move.

The redhead's stomach lurched, swirled, and performed a swift series of tangos, salsas, foxtrots and cha-chas. _Wow…_ thought Ginny weakly. _That is… quite high_. She tore her gaze from the ground, many, many feet below, and focused again on the large, vaguely triangular head of the Hebridean Black that was weaving and bobbing in front of her.

**Draco**

He ran through the crowd, feeling disgusted by his own actions against Bellatrix. _Murderer – murderer – murderer_ rang through his head, echoing against the walls of the chamber that held his brain. Draco saw Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle fighting an Inferi, and was moving towards them to help when he heard a high-pitched screech; "Ginny!"

Fear washing through his body and blanching his already-pale face, Draco spun away from his two fellow Slytherins and raced towards the source of the scream. Zig-zagging through the crowd, he finally ran into Granger, who was, shrieking, "Ginny, no!"

"Granger – Hermione – where's Ginny?" he gasped to the unkempt, blood-stained Head Girl.

Tears were in Granger's eyes; she grabbed Draco's elbow and held it tight. "She's – she's - up there," she sobbed, "_Ginny_!"

_Up where?_

Draco looked up, and he felt his breakfast rising back to his throat. There: a powerful, fierce black dragon. And swinging from its tail, thirty – forty – _fifty_ – feet, was a small, skinny figure. With long, flaming red hair billowing back in the wind. "What the bloody hell is she doing?" he cried.

Granger did not answer. She was probably too busy cutting off blood circulation to Draco's lower arm as she wept, clinging desperately to his elbow. "Ginny – _Ginny_ – my… _hic_… best friend! My – _hic_… Ginny!" she howled, tears splashing down her muddy face, leaving clean tear-tracks in the filth.

Wrenching his arm from her grip, Draco pushed through the half-staring, half-battling crowd to get as close as possible to where the Black was flying. "GINNY!" he bellowed. "GINNY – GET DOWN!"

Someone who was watching the whole Weasley-dragon fight suddenly screamed and collapsed as they were attacked from behind by a Death Eater. Everyone burst into war again, Ginny's insane antics forgotten. Except for Draco. "GINNY!" he shouted.

A thousand images flashed through his mind – _the dragon saw her, spun, and knocked her off. She was killed by the fall._

_-the dragon saw her, spun and killed her in an explosion of flame._

_-the dragon saw her, spun and ripped her head off, before dropping the body in front of Draco._

"GINNY!"

**Ginny**

She heard his frightened scream, but didn't look down. If she did, she knew she'd fall. And that wouldn't be good.

Ginny climbed further up. Now that the spikes of the dragon were so far apart, it needed a third line down the middle to maintain its status as a lethal instrument. Wrapping her slim, bloody fingers around each long spike as she clambered up its spine, she hauled herself up.

Something was wrong, though. The dragon wasn't attacking the people below anymore. It was soaring through the sky – higher and higher and higher. Altitude choked Ginny's lungs, but she kept going… keep going…

The Black veered sideways, tilting its body vertical against gravity. Several things happened at once. Ginny's body slid away, she instinctively grabbed at the nearest spike, her broken arm broke in a few more places as her elbow was crushed against the side of the Hebridean Black, and one of her shoes flew off (soaring down and knocking out an Imperiused Muggle).

_This is not a good day_.

Ginny made her day three times worse in approximately a quarter of a second – she screamed.

Surprisingly, this cry was not ripped away by the harsh, icy wind. It rang out, loud and clear, probably terrifying Draco and Hermione down below into thinking that she was being eaten… and the dragon heard too.

It craned its head back, searching for the annoying midge clinging to its spine. It located Ginny, and let out a loud, furious roar. In shock, Ginny's hand slipped, and she slid rapidly down the rough, coarse scales, grazing every inch of her hands as she desperately scrabbled to get hold of something before she plummeted to her death.

Finally her bloodstained hands gripped the tall muscles that knotted down and spread out into broad, powerful bat wings, and she dangled uselessly. Legs kicking and flailing, Ginny hauled herself up a few inches, to try and grab at a fold of the wing, a loose scale, a low-placed spike – anything. She pushed her fingers under one scale, and accidentally ripped it off.

Thick, rank green blood spurted out, splashing across Ginny's pale, already-grubby face, searching out every open space; nose, ears, mouth, eyes, and down her shirt. As she spat out a huge glob of blood down to the battlefield below, the dragon screeched in a hideous cry of pain.

_Great. Now it knows where I am. AND it hates me._

A faint growl rumbled under Ginny, deep in the Black's belly, and then a great plume of fire hot enough to bend metal and melt bone rushed through its muscular, masculine maw and past ivory, blood-stained teeth.

Unable to control herself, Ginny screamed again – the noise startled the Hebridean Black and it rolled sideways, just before the column of flame reached her, and she was hurtled back on the beast's back again, scraping over the painful scales and thudding against the spikes that lined its protruding spine.

She heard Draco scream, far below, but all thoughts of him were banished when the angered, hurt dragon shot another pillar of fire in her direction. Ginny wriggled through the gap between two spikes. She heard snapping sounds that seemed to come from her arm. She had three thoughts.

_How many times can an arm break?_

_Well, that can't be good._

_FIRE!!_

The most prominent idea in Ginny's head was the latter, and she scrambled away from the sharp teeth and scorching flame of the dragon. _No, stupid! You're supposed to be going __**towards**__ the dragon_! She crawled forwards, edging over the dragon's body – to dragons, quite small; to humans, colossal.

The Hebridean Black, now thoroughly – for want of a better phrase – pissed off, roared again, seeming to shake the foundations of the earth, and rolled through the air before plummeting down.

A shriek was torn from Ginny as she tumbled sideways and then skidded down the Black's back, bumping into spikes and scratching herself on the scales. The Black screamed into the sky, and it let loose a searing inferno.

A blaze hot enough to challenge the earth's core was thundering up from the very pits of the dragon's belly, creating fire, and then it poured from its throat. It was almost like liquid, pouring over a flame-proof tongue, and curling past hard, dark lips, and flooding over disconcertingly delicate-looking ivory teeth, yet not damaging or chipping or even burning the fragile white.

_Past the lips, past the gums, towards Ginny, here it comes_.

The stupid rhyme, with altered words, shot into Ginny's head in place of anything realistic or meaningful, in place of anything that could, _possibly_, save her life. But no. What her brain gave her was a Muggle children's poem.

And then the fire was upon her.

**A/N:** Dun dun dunn. I have nothing to say. Move on. Click the pretty little button just below. You _know_ that you wannaa… I'll give you a hug and a lollipop of your desired flavour. –brandishes lollipop tin-


	44. The Craziest Thing Of All

**A/N: **Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Sorry it took me a while to update. I like this chapter. Very dramatic – mild language. It's sort of Eastenders-type material. (If you're American – One Tree Hill. If you're Australian – Neighbours. If you're anything else… er. Search the others on Youtube.) Anyway. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty-Four: The Craziest Thing Of All**_

_**DRACO**_

_Everyone burst into war again, Ginny's insane antics forgotten. Except for Draco. "GINNY!" he shouted._

_A blaze hot enough to challenge the earth's core was thundering up from the very pits of the dragon's belly, creating fire, and then it poured from its throat. It was almost like liquid, pouring over a flame-proof tongue, and curling past hard, dark lips, and flooding over disconcertingly delicate-looking ivory teeth, yet not damaging or chipping or even burning the fragile white._

_And then the fire was upon her._

…

"_GINNY_!" Draco screamed.

Fire blazed through the sky, lighting up every fast-falling raindrop and sending sparks across the gloomy, sodden clouds. She didn't even scream.

"GINNY!" Draco howled. "Ginny – _Ginny _-" Tears stung at his eyes, and he let them sweep down his muddy face; he the great Hebridean Black that was conquering the sky as he silently wept for the only person he'd ever cared for.

"What the hell is your problem?" shouted a Weasley voice – _Ginny?_ A crazy part of Draco's head said sharply, but it was a male voice – and Draco turned around to see Ron. The glaring, panting, sweating redhead raised his fist, and whacked him in the face.

Draco crumpled to the mud. He stared up at Ron. _I thought we were on the same side_. And then: _he punches like __**she**__ does._ He was vaguely aware of pain throbbing through his jaw, but it didn't hurt. It was like being poked with a toothpick, like being scratched with a blunt rock – compared to what was going on internally for Draco.

"That's _my _sister, okay?" Ron bellowed. "My sister – Ginny's – probably _dead_! And you have _no _reason to being crying for her! She's not – she's not your – _friend_ – she's not your – _sister_ – _why the hell are you screaming for her then_?"

Harry was behind Ron, looking equally livid and distressed; blood was streaming from his neck, and his round glasses were hanging, cracked and bent, lopsidedly from his nose. Behind both of them was Hermione – bushy hair matted with blood and mud, a long cut across her eyebrow, tears on her stricken face – and Luna – looking deeply apologetic towards Draco, also weeping for Ginny, pale with lack of blood, holding signs of being Confunded.

Draco's throat was very dry. The words he could never say to Ginny; never dare to say. "I love her," he croaked, feeling his honesty threatening to tear him apart.

Harry's green eyes widened so that they almost stretched past the round spectacles on his face, and his jaw dropped open in an 'o' of surprise. Ron was fuming. Steam almost seemed to swirl out of his ears as his face performed the duties of a Muggle traffic-light: first grey, then white, then pink, then red, then purple, then green, then back to red again, crimson like the now-blood-red sky above. Luna and Hermione gasped, and then they looked up at the dragon with tears anew in their eyes, seeming to look as if they now understood something heart-breaking.

_But they know nothing of broken hearts._

The youngest Weasley boy looked as though he would like nothing better than to kill Draco, and he stepped forwards as if to fill his desires, but Harry, Hermione and Luna all wound their arms through his and dragged him back.

_Let him go. Let him kill me. I tried so hard. For nothing. For no reason. I tried so hard. Not hard enough, it seems._

Panting through his own anger and breathlessness, Ron growled, "No… no – you don't. You don't – _can't_ – love her. You're using her – you're a stupid Slytherin _bastard_ and YOU KILLED MY SISTER!" his furious growling transformed into a scream of rage and anguish.

The three holding him were shocked into releasing him, but before Ron could race forwards and attack the blonde seventeen-year-old, Hermione ran at him.

"You paranoid sick insecure little bastard!" she screamed, and her hand flew up, striking Ron hard around the face. He stumbled backwards, shocked into silence, his mouth gaping open. "You're so stupid that you can't see what's right below your nose! Ginny and Draco were_ happy_, they were _best friends_, and they might have even been in _love _with each other – but you have to spoil _**everything**_! You couldn't _ever _be happy for Ginny, could you? She was happy with Harry, but you spoiled that. She was happy with Dean and Seamus and Terry and Colin and that man from Durmstrang, _but you didn't care about her_! Your pride was _always _more important than her happiness! Or ANYONE else's, for that matter!"

She stamped her foot on the last word, and Ron, terrified that he was going to be hit again, fell backwards into the dirt, near where Draco was. He was staring up at this terrifying beast that sweet, innocent Hermione Granger had become – a monster, in the insanity of death, war and the craziest thing of all called _love_. He opened his mouth: "Hermione -", but was cut off.

"DON'T SAY A WORD, RONALD! I don't want to hear it, okay? Ron, I really thought that you'd _changed _from that arrogant fool you were in our fourth year – _but you haven't_! You're so blind, and stupid, and paranoid, and…" Hermione screaming stopped abruptly, and there was a silence between Draco, Luna, and what had a few minutes ago been the Golden Trio. Her hair was crackling with fire, and her shoulders with shaking with fury. She took a deep, attempting-to-calm breath, and, with her voice trembling, she finished, "and now I wish I'd never kissed you."

Everyone gasped.

Ron: "w-w-hat?"

Everyone else: "_YOU KISSED_?!?!?"

"Yes," said Hermione shakily as tears glistened in her chocolate-latte eyes. "And I wish desperately that I hadn't." She looked down at Ron's broken, crushed expression for a moment, and then with a tiny sob, said, "No, Ronald," and turned away, Luna comforting her.

Ron stood and staggered in the opposite direction, swiping at his own face, moaning, "No…"

Draco and Harry were left behind in the centre of the battlefield. Blue eyes and green eyes met for a second, and there was a silence stretched between them. "Um," said Harry, "for what's its worth… thanks." When Draco only gave him a quizzical look, Harry sighed, and continued awkwardly, "I mean… I haven't seen Ginny so happy in a long time. She's never really had a _best_ friend, even though she's popular. I didn't know what it took to make her truly happy – and if I did know… I didn't have it."

Harry stretched out a hand and pulled Draco to his feet, before giving him a clumsy hug, muttering, "Gotta go… Ron… grief… kill himself… war to fight… you know…" and disappearing in the direction that Ron had headed in.

Feeling defeated, and as if there was a gaping hole in his chest that could never be fixed where something (or some_one_) was supposed to be, Draco raked his blonde hair out of his eyes, and sprinted back into the battle. _If I never think about it – or her… - again, then maybe… maybe I can forget she ever existed. _Spells were flying left, right and centre, and Draco concentrated on the skirmish, pushing away heavy-hearted thoughts of petite redhead girls with heart-shaped faces.

"STUPEFY!!" he yelled, taking out his anger on a Death Eater who was sneaking up behind Professor McGonagall. A tall, wide man that turned out to be Macbain fell to the ground.

"Why, Malfoy – thank you," gasped McGonagall, wheeling around and clutching at her heart. "That was too valiant of you!"

Draco wasn't listening. He was staring down at Macbain, chest heaving, blue eyes transforming into glowing coals from his rage.

"_CRUCIO!" Macbain shouted. A beam of blue magic hit Ginny squarely in the chest. She fell to the ground, screaming, high-pitched and anguished, writhing in the leaves, tears pouring down her freckled face._

_Ginny was screaming louder than ever, her lovely voice raw and desperate as she screeched, "Please make it stop!" She twisted her hands into claws, digging into the ground, her screams loud and terrible. "What do you want?" she sobbed._

_Ginny was screaming the same words as she thrashed about it the dirt; Macbain was laughing his head off as he cut the curse. Ginny collapsed in a heap, weeping through her cries of agony. "What do you want?" she howled as she staggered to her feet, trying to run. "I haven't done anything wrong."_

"_Oh, but ye have," sneered Macbain. "Sectumsempra!" Purple light flashed, and then huge, gaping wounds sliced through Ginny, her chest, stomach and head slashed. Her legs took a laceration as well, and she collapsed backwards. Blood was pouring down her gaunt face, so crimson that it made her hair seem pale and dull; her clothes were stained scarlet as she slowly bled to death._

_Macbain stooped so that he was near Ginny's face. "Hey, darlin'," he leered, and snatched the necklace from her throat. Then he bent closer, darted his tongue out and licked her ear. Ginny didn't even flinch… she couldn't. _Then Ginny's head rolled to the side; she would never laugh, blush, or hurdle the sofas in the Gryffindor common room for fun again.

Eyes narrowing to slits, Draco raised his wand – _no. __**Her**__ wand_ – and hissed, "_Ennervate_." He wanted Macbain awake; awake so that he could feel his body being shredded, feel pain coursing through his thick, stupid body.

Macbain coughed up blood and then sat up. The first thing that he saw was a glaring, angsty seventeen-year-old ex-Death Eater with an icy stare directed at him. "Draco," he choked out.

Draco did not ease his unfriendliness. "I'm not a Death Eater anymore, Macbain. So to you, that would be Mister Malfoy Junior, I believe," he said frostily. He pointed his wand directly into the fallen older man's face.

"Dra-" Macbain started.

Wand thrust closer to his face, emitting deadly-looking sparks.

"_Mister Malfoy Junior_!" Macbain hastily corrected himself. "I mean... what're ye doin'?"

"What does it look like?" Draco roared. His – _HER _ - wand crackled lethally before the man's nose, and Macbain flinched. "You," Draco said, his voice dangerously low, not caring that McGonagall was watching in horror, "are _scum_. I would not give a damn if you died… in fact, that's actually why I'm here."

McGonagall made an odd whimpering noise, and scurried away as Draco inspected the tip of his – _her _– _STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT_ – wand.

Macbain gulped. "I – er – Mister Malfoy Junior, I didn' do nuffink, I swear," he gasped out.

"Apart from trying to murder -" Draco struggled internally for a few seconds, trying to force out the word. One word. Two syllables. Five letters. _G… G… Gi…_ "MURDERER!" he shouted, brandishing his wand.

"Wha-?"

"You tried to… tried to…" Draco brawled with his own emotions. "You… _murderer_…"

_Say it. You have to say it. Let him know what he put you through._

_I can't._

_You have to!_

_I… I can't say her name…_

_DO IT, DRACO!_

_It… it hurts…_

_SPEAK, DAMNIT!_

"You… tried to kill… G…" Draco stammered. He squeezed his eyes shut, before forcing them open wide, and said flatly, using every ounce of his strength, "_Ginny_."

PAIN – ripping through his chest – tearing him apart – _she was gone_ – the dragon – _no_ – PAIN -

"_What_?" said Macbain incredulously. "Dra- er. Mister Malfoy Junior, we alreadeh talked about this! I promised not te 'arm a 'air on 'er 'ead! We talked about it."

Draco was shaking.

_Er… Draco? What are you doing?_

_Shut up! I'm going to kill him. Painfully._

_Why?_

_For what he did to G-……… her._

_Draco… you know that was fake, right?_

… _I HAVE TO HURT SOMEONE!_

_Calm down, it's –_

_NO! SHE'S DEAD._

Draco felt overwhelming guilt; he was preparing to kill a man for something that he had never done, and was never going to do. He would be a cold-blooded murderer all over again. But at the same time, he felt a burning need to destroy, to kill, to _torture_ – Ginny was dead, and those who had killed her would pay.

_But Macbain didn't –_

_SHUT UP, I KNOW!_

He lowered his wand, beaten by the truth, and looked at his feet. Taking another deep, shaky breath, Draco said darkly, just loud enough for Macbain to hear, "Get out my sight."

Macbain grunted some sort of response, heaved himself onto his feet and scrambled away. Draco stared down at the mud for a second, before turning away and finding someone who he _could _hurt, someone who really_ was_ guilty. A ferocious gnawing was going on inside him, and to balance it out, he needed to terrorize every Death Eater he saw.

Blood pumping through his head, he turned. Two fourth-years were grappling with three Inferi. "IMPENDETIA!" he hollered at it. Purple light sparked and crackled from the tip of the wand he held, and then the violet punched through one Inferi, cuffed the head off of another, and knocked the third backwards. The third Inferi was attacked with the least power, as most of the spell was directed towards the first two – the last surviving (if it could be called that, being a imprint of the deceased) Inferi was still wrestling a fourth-year Slytherin that Draco recognized as shy, but unpleasant, Roger Lacing, to the ground.

"Bifurus!" Roger cried out, and then the Inferi was thrown backwards by what looked like a transparent, floating blue punching-glove.

"Nice." The conceited drawl was past his lips before Draco could stop it. Perhaps if he locked himself away – like he had for the past seven years – _before you met __**her**__, that is_ – then it wouldn't hurt so much.

"Are you gonna help me or what?" demanded Roger, ignoring his companion, Howard Ewan, who was blood-stained, bruised, and moaning in pain.

"Hey, Lacing, considering that I just saved your sorry life, I think a _thank you_ would be nice," snapped Draco.

Roger snorted. "Since when do you care about being _nice_?" he sneered.

Blood… boiling… don't… answer… "Just because you're a insensitive arsehole doesn't mean that we all are," Draco retorted.

"What, and _you're_ sensitive?" Roger laughed cruelly. "Oh, that's right! Let me guess… you're in _love_…" he scorned.

_When he pulled back just enough so that he could quietly murmur against her lips, "Go, Ginny", she opened her eyes and stared up into his own eyes, hazel into blue. She flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tight, tears spilling over, brushing her lips against his, and then turned on her heel and ran._

_And then the fire was upon her. Fire blazed through the sky, lighting up every fast-falling raindrop and sending sparks across the gloomy, sodden clouds. She didn't even scream._

An artery pulsed in Draco's temple, and, self-consiously, his grubby hands curled into tight fists, cutting back into old wounds made by his fingernails at the Lestrange castle.

_Don't. DON'T, Draco. It's not worth it._

_HE – LOVE – MAKE – STOP – NO – _

_Draco, calm down! He's not worth it –_

_SHE'S – NO – PLEASE – GONE – NOT –_

"Oh, looks like I've hit a sore spot," derided Roger, mock-sympathy. "Dear, dear."

_HE'S THREE YEARS YOUNGER THAN ME! I COULD RIP HIS HEAD OFF! I DON'T CARE – I COULD JUST – RIP – TEAR – KILL – NOT – NO – STOP – KILL – HIM –_

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" said Roger spitefully. "Did she break up with you? Reject you? Maybe _Death Eaters_ weren't exactly to her taste. Or did she _die_?"

The little voice in Draco's head screaming all of his thoughts fell instantly silent. Every muscle and nerve shut down. He couldn't see, or hear, or smell, or taste, or feel, or _breathe_… He was staring blankly at Roger, who was still talking, sneering on and on vindictively, but Draco couldn't hear him.

_Or did she __**die**_

_Or did she __**die**_

_Or did she –_

Then Draco was upon Roger, hitting, scratching, clawing, tearing, punching, pummelling, kicking, dragging, fighting, knocking him to the ground – and when Roger was lying helplessly, the seventeen-year-old threw himself at the younger boy, straddling him and pinning him down to punch him again and again until blood was coming from Roger's face and Draco's knuckles, but the pain didn't matter, the pain didn't matter, the pain didn't –

"Malfoy! Lacing!" shouted Professor Snape. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Go – kill – now – not – kill – no – _gone -_" roared Draco, not ceasing his beating of the fourth-year Slytherin.

"Get him off me!" screeched Roger Lacing, scrabbling in the dirt. "He's going to kill me! He's gone mad!"

Snape wound his arms through Draco's and hauled the furious boy backwards. "Mister Malfoy!" he barked. "What the hell is the meaning of this?"

Draco did not answer; he only pulled forwards, grunting and gasping, trying to wrench himself free from his Head of House's grip.

Now that Roger was protected, he was back to his usual arrogant and cocky self. "I'll tell you Professor," he drawled callously. Draco fixed a stare on Roger, as if saying _don't you dare_, but the younger boy ignored it. "Malfoy's," he paused, and then, putting on a high, silly voice, simpered, "_heartbroken_."

"_**YOU KNOW NOTHING OF BROKEN HEARTS**_!" Draco screamed, bent over in his anguish, struggling from Snape, and it was then that the Potions master noticed the genuine, tormented tears sliding down his pale, gaunt face.

"Psh," sneered Roger, though he was a little taken-aback at his out-burst. "Broken heart. My _arse_. You don't _have _a heart. And I doubt that little Weasley's death could ever give you one."

"Weasley?" said Snape quickly. Something incomprehensible scrawled across his face, like a distant suffering, and then he masked it.

"_Don't say her name_!" Draco snarled, his voice cracking with held-back sobs. His shoulders shook. "Don't you dare," he said brokenly, looking at his feet in despair.

"Aw," cooed Roger maliciously. "Poor Draco."

"Lacing," spat Draco. "Bear in mind… the next time your being throttled to death by Inferi who want your soul in exchange for their own, I think I'll just leave you to them."

"Malfoy!" snapped Snape, sounding outraged and shocked by Draco's words.

"Don't patronize me," the older of the two quarrelling Slytherin boys growled. He twisted away from his Professor, and muttered, "Have fun getting yourself killed. I'm leaving."

Roger grumbled something that sounded oddly like 'loser' as Draco stalked away. Fire blazed and blood soaked into the ground, turning the mud into a sick, russet-coloured sludge. And all around him, death reigned.

**A/N:** Omg!! You know, I think, just to annoy, I'm going to let Ginny burn horrifically, die in Draco's arms, and then the Dark Lord triumph. Then I'll do a sequel all about Draco's pain. Yeah, that sounds cool. Ginny-fans, say your goodbyes. UNLESS, of course… I COULD possibly be swayed, by, say, I don't know, a review? Oo Why don't you try? xD

By the way, the thing with Snape is that ol' Snapey saw himself in Draco – an unwanted, abused, Slytherin reject of the social world, who fell in love with the beautiful redhead, only to have her stolen away by Potter and then killed.


	45. Join The Fun

**A/N: HAHAHA! YOU'RE ALL SO STUPID!!** You REALLY thought that I was going to KILL Ginny! Hahaha. Sorry. It's not nice to laugh at people's mistakes. –grin- Thank you so much to reviewers! I love you all. Sorry it took me a while to update.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty-Five: Join The Fun**_

_**GINNY**_

_A blaze hot enough to challenge the earth's core was thundering up from the very pits of the dragon's belly, creating fire, and then it poured from its throat. It was almost like liquid, pouring over a flame-proof tongue, and curling past hard, dark lips, and flooding over disconcertingly delicate-looking ivory teeth, yet not damaging or chipping or even burning the fragile white._

_And then the fire was upon her._

…

Ginny didn't have time to scream. Hell, she didn't have time to make her eyes widen slightly as she thought, _Crap._ The fire simply rushed out of the Hebridean Black's mouth, into the fire, and then at her.

_I wonder what being burnt alive feels like_, Ginny wondered. Actually, it all happened so fast that she pondered this thought _after _she was already safe. Then,_ finally_, her eyes widened slightly and she thought, _What the hell? I'm alive!_

The necklace, ever present, hanging against her collarbone, was palpitating and throbbing rhythmically with Ginny's heartbeat, and near-invisible waves of light were pulsing outwards from her fingertips – she had flung her arms in front of her face as instinctive protection, before the dragon had even opened its mouth. Flames were still rolling past her… but they first circumnavigated a great, invisible orb of protection that was formed around the terrified and puzzled redhead.

"What the hell…" breathed Ginny. Her voice rang and echoed distantly, sending a shiver crawling down her spine. She looked down at the still-pulsating amulet that leant against the dark cloth of her shirt. She pointed a finger at it. "That is the _second _time you've done that now, mister," she said, accusatory. Then, she tilted her head to the side. "Thanks."

_Well, now that we've all agreed that the necklace is quite helpful after all, can we move on? We're stuck in a giant flame-covered bubble, approximately seventy feet high into the air, on the back of a rather peeved dragon._

_Fair point_.

The fire had faltered long ago, and Ginny reached up to the black onyx triangle, camouflaged against her dark clothing. The protective sphere flickered and dissolved.

The Hebridean Black blinked, bewildered. What the devil was that girl doing? She was supposed to be incinerated – right? It let loose another impressive snarl. Before the roaring of its stomach calling upon fire could even begin, Ginny was on her feet, scrambling clumsily across the dragon's scales, slipping and sliding and generally causing more self-harm than progress.

She quite cleverly placed one fall; fire rushed over her head, singing a few stray tresses and removing hairs from the back of her neck. The roaring flame tailed off, and Ginny staggered back to her feet.

Only a few feet left.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

The Black roared and dipped into a barrel roll before plummeting vertically downwards. Ginny yelped, but before it could transform into a fully-fledged scream, she was falling forwards. Then the dragon shot sharply upwards, and the sixteen-year-old thumped down, skidded a little, and then came to a sharp halt.

_What the- _Ginny had landed on the Hebridean Black's large, muscular shoulder. Confused, the dragon was now screeching, twisting and turning violently to find her, so that Ginny had to cling desperately to its neck in order to stay put. She grabbed onto a spine that was jutting out from the side of the dragon's neck, and wrapped one arm around it, before sitting behind another spike.

"Oh, God, this had better work," she muttered, and drew Draco's wand. _If this doesn't work, I just wasted twenty minutes getting myself killed_. "IMPERIO!"

White light flashed, blinding her eyes. Then, with a harsh dragonish scream, the Hebridean Black froze.

And fell.

"CRAP!" she yelled. "NO! YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT!"

It was plummeting through the air, fast, frozen as if it had seen a Basilisk. The ground was rushing up to meet them, fast, fast, faster than fast…_ Ohhhh God I'm gonna die._

"Er – DRAGON!" she bellowed. "UM – FLY!"

Nothing.

The ground was deadly close… Ginny squeezed her eyes tightly shut. _FLY_, she screamed inside her head, pushing her thoughts towards the Hebridean Black. _FLY!_

The ground was too close – and then the dragon stretched its wings. They caught air, and it swooped upwards again, "YES!" whooped Ginny, punching the air. "Come on, dragony!" She held tighter to the two spikes on the Black's anatomy to hold herself in place. _Now kill the Death Eaters._

The Black let loose a roar that chilled Ginny's blood, but this time it wasn't at her. It was at those who used to be its allies. Then it plunged down again, claws curling into lethal hooks. A terrifying scream tore from its hard, black lips, and it snorted fire as it sped to earth.

Claws – ripping – tearing – blood. Teeth – gnawing – pulling – blood. Tail – crushing – destroying – blood. It was making Ginny faint but she stared determinedly down, attacking each enemy in her mind, and then the dragon followed through. They landed, crushing several enemies as they did so, and then the Black was more capable of crushing and eating and setting everything alight.

Blood spurted high in the air, trickling down the dragon's neck and matting Ginny's hair. Determinedly ignoring this, she focused on the nearest Death Eater. The dragon pushed off into the air, leg muscles tightened like springs and then firing away. With a cry of surprise, Ginny slid backwards and tumbled down the Hebridean Black's shoulder.

Feeling her skin peel from her back, she skidded down, shrieking hysterically. _I can't see! Agh – I hate going down slides backwards. WHY SHOULD A DRAGON BE ANY DIFFERENT?_ Unconsiously, she drew out of the dragon's mind; it was now free to do its own will.

"_Catch me_!" she screeched.

The dragon did not obey; on the contrary, it realized where she was, and made a beeline for her – and a very angry bee it was. The Death Eater that Ginny had planned on killing spun.

Macbain.

His dark eyes widened, and he raised his wand. "IMPERIO!" he hollered.

_Oh, great. Now, instead of being an angry dragon, its an angry dragon in the control of an angry Death Eater. Wow, someone up there must __**hate**__ me._

However, the dragon's scales were immune to absorbing spells, and the curse reflected away and hit a rock. The rock did not look pleased, but as it was a rock, it couldn't make any move towards fulfilling its desires.

"STUPEFY!" Macbain attempted, waving his wand. The dragon was not knocked unconscious, but it was stunned, and it reeled backwards.

_What the hell is he doing?_

Then, more astonishing than trying to knock out his own army's dragon, Macbain ran forwards, and spread his arms out, after quickly stowing his wand. With one final shriek for good measure, Ginny collapsed into his arms. Macbain grunted and yelped with pain, but after a moment's staggering, he regained his balance, and looked down at her.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with horror and bewilderment.

"Savin' ye," grunted Macbain. "Unless, 'course, ye'd prefer I didn'." He raised one bushy black eyebrow.

Ginny opened and closed her mouth, like a fish, as he set her down on the ground. "But-" she stammered. "You're a Death Eater – why – you're supposed to… _kill _me. Not_ save _me." Hazel narrowed suspiciously. "Why aren't you hurting me?"

Macbain eyed her for a second. Then he said simply, "I made a promise to someone." Seeing the blank look on Ginny's face, he sighed. "Never mind," he said, and then, clumsily patting her shoulder, said, "Be careful, kid."

She watched him walk away, and then, frowning about his 'promise', turned her back on him. She had a war to fight.

So far, Ginny knew that Avery was dead, and Macbain seemed to be on the good side. Dolohov was bound and unconscious. Snape was on the good side, and she had seen Bellatrix Lestrange's body lying in the mud some distance away (she mentally congratulated whoever had slain the Death Eater 'scarlet woman', as Ron would say).

But, oddly enough, Lord Voldemort was not in the fight. Where was he? It wasn't like him to miss out on all the _fun_.

At the very instant that Ginny thought those words, there was an explosion of green light and thick black smoke, swirling and spinning on the ground. The Hogwarts side generally screeched and ran away; the Death Eaters all instantly formed a rough circle (more of a jelly-bean shape, it had to be said) around the light and smoke, dropping to their knees and donning their masks.

Ginny vaguely noticed that Macbain was not among them.

The light was so bright and so toxic-green that it burned the image onto Ginny's eyes, hurting her brain and making her heartbeat throb faster and faster. Then, gradually, it faded down to nothingness.

And there was Lord Voldemort.

Her breath caught. She hadn't seen the Dark Lord properly since she was fourteen, trapped in the Department of Mysteries with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville – with Draco in the Shrieking Shack, the epitome of evil had been shrouded by darkness, and she had been too blinded by fear to take in what she was seeing.

He hadn't changed. Tall, lean. Smooth white head. Long, cold fingers. Ragged, dirty fingernails. Snake-like nostrils. Thin, narrow, glowing crimson slits of eyes. A thin, hard mouth. Flowing black robes, so flimsy that it seemed as if he was standing in a cloud. Scanning the area smugly, taking in the dead bodies with glee. He looked around at his Death Eaters; counted them.

Six were missing.

Ginny counted the heads as well. Mulciber wasn't there. Lord Voldemort glared, noticing the same thing. Then he noticed the numbers of the Hogwarts army – few. And he threw back his head and let out a cold, high, cruel laugh that resounded through the air, chilling everyone's blood.

"Well, well, well!" he crooned. "Look what I've been missing out on… I guess I'd better join in the fun!" He lifted his white-bone wand high, equipped with the phoenix-feather brother of Harry's own wand, and cried out.

Professor Flitwick fell.

"NO!" cried Ginny, unable to contain herself.

_Her favourite teacher. Dead. Murdered, in half a second._

The fight was officially on.

**A/N:** Omg!! You know, I think, just to annoy, I'm going to let Ginny burn horrifically, die in Draco's arms, and then the Dark Lord triumph. Then I'll do a sequel all about Draco's pain. Yeah, that sounds cool. Ginny-fans, say your goodbyes. UNLESS, of course… I COULD possibly be swayed, by, say, I don't know, a review? Oo Why don't you try? xD

By the way, the thing with Snape is that ol' Snapey saw himself in Draco – an unwanted, abused, Slytherin reject of the social world, who fell in love with the beautiful redhead, only to have her stolen away by Potter and then killed.


	46. Try To Keep Up

**A/N: **Lalala. Next chappie. Enjoy. Still the massive fight. I hope you like it. It has some funny sass in it from our favourite redhead. (I already told you last time that she survived the Hebridean Black. Geez.) It also has some language… some emotional sappy stuff… and it reveals Ginny's secret… OOO.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty-Six: Try To Keep Up**_

_**DRACO**_

_Roger grumbled something that sounded oddly like 'loser' as Draco stalked away. Fire blazed and blood soaked into the ground, turning the mud into a sick, russet-coloured sludge. And all around him, death reigned._

_Lord Voldemort hadn't changed. Tall, lean. Smooth white head. Long, cold fingers. Ragged, dirty fingernails. Snake-like nostrils. Thin, narrow, glowing crimson slits of eyes. A thin, hard mouth. Flowing black robes, so flimsy that it seemed as if he was standing in a cloud. "Well, well, well!" he crooned. "Look what I've been missing out on… I guess I'd better join in the fun!"_

_The fight was officially on._

…

The crackle of light met Draco's eyes despite the distance. And the laugh was undeniable. The Dark Lord had arrived. Now – thousands would die.

_Just like her._

"NO!" cried a female voice.

Draco stopped.

He knew that voice. He knew it very well. He heard it in his nightmares; he heard it echoing through his brain whenever he tried to relax. A despairing shout.

Could it be?

"_Ginny_!" someone yelled.

_No. That's impossible. She can't be. Draco, don't you dare go over there. She's gone. You'll just be hurt again when you can't find her –_

Too late.

Before the last syllable had even been spoken, Draco was tearing through the crowd, sliding left and right in the filth, stumbling, landing on his knees, skidding-

_Er, Draco? Remind me again __**why**__ you're running TOWARDS the Dark Lord who wants to kill you?_

_**Because she's there**_.

"Get out of my way," he barked at an Inferi, before remembering the battle, and blasting a hole through its head.

He could see the thick black smoke. He could see the faint, throbbing green light. Lord Voldemort was near.

_Long, red, sparkling hair. Round, deer-in-headlight, hazel eyes. Freckled, pale, heart-shaped face. Smile – laugh – blush –_

"Ginny!" he burst out, wrestling through a thick crowd of people retreating away from Lord Voldemort. "Let – me – _through_!" he shouted.

"Weasley," said the Dark Lord's voice. He sounded surprised.

"Riddle," replied a confident female voice.

_GINNY!_

"How surprising to see you here." He didn't seem to be phased by the fact that she had spoken his true name; his Death Eaters were gasping and muttering.

"Not really. Considering that Draco and I kicked your arse."

_SHE MENTIONED ME!_

The gasping and muttering grew louder; it was now coming from her own side now, as well. "Oh, dear," she continued. "Didn't your master tell you about that, then?" she have been speaking to the Death Eaters. "How two teenagers kicked his-"

"That's enough!"

Lord Voldemort had lost his smug, carefree tone. He was now thoroughly pissed off. His eyes were so narrowed that they were glowing red lines, his mouth thinned similarly.

"Oh, what, you can dish it out but you can't take it?"

"Ginny?" It was Ron, and Draco could also hear Harry.

"What's going on – _Ginny_!" it was Hermione; Luna joined in on the word 'Ginny'.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Ron yelled.

"Touch a hair on her head and you die," Harry added threateningly.

"Please – please don't hurt her," Hermione begged.

"You don't have to," Luna chimed in pleadingly.

"You guys…" snapped Ginny. "I don't need your help. Tom Riddle is just a sad-ass loner who-"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"_NO_!" Draco screamed.

"Draco?" someone squeaked, and then suddenly there was an explosion of fire.

A hush fell as everyone quietened in shock. Every face spoke the same: _what the __**hell**__ was that_?

"I told you I could kick your arse," the female replied, but her voice was shaking. She hadn't been prepared for that either.

Draco gasped. _The Stone!_

"Oh," sneered Lord Voldemort, dropping his protective shield. "That's a nice spell, Weasley. Who taught you that?"

She was silent – she didn't know.

"Ginny Ginny Ginny," Draco muttered desperately, tugging at people's robes and scrabbling to get through. "Oh, for God's sake!" he ducked down and started to crawl through people's legs. They were staring in horror, but that didn't matter.

"Did your necklace teach you that?" Lord Voldemort continued. "I just think its funny how you defensively grabbed the little rock around your neck and your wand then acted of its own accord, producing spells that a little girl could surely not be capable of."

_Oh God, what is he doing?_

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," said Ginny darkly.

_Wait – what?_

"Go on, dearest, this should be interesting," replied Lord Voldemort.

"Okay then," said Ginny. "I'm the top of my Defence Against the Dark Arts class and I'm also privately taking seventh year Defence as extra credit. As well as that, I've been teaching myself Black Magic since _you_ so happily possessed me. Not just theory, I may add."

Silence.

_YOU WHAT?_

"What, you don't believe me? Haven't you noticed that everyone is a lot less susceptible to average hexes that normal? Black wards. Stronger than White wards. Cast by," Ginny paused dramatically, and struck a pose, "_moi_."

Silence.

_COME AGAIN, NOW?_

"How did I know where Draco was, when he was being tortured? I Scryed him. I've also Scryed my older brother, a few years back. I also took over another of brothers' mind."

_Oh. Good. God._

"I knew all of this," said Lord Voldemort frostily. "Tell me something new."

"Oh, silly me. Everything that I told Snape will have gone straight to you, right?" she laughed. "Well, I lied to him. That's _not _the only Black magic I've done. I haven't told anyone about the other one, though." She lowered her voice into a conspiratorial stage-whisper, so that everyone could hear. "Wanna be let in on a little secret?"

"Do go on."

Unconsiously, Draco, as he crawled frantically, was perking up his ears, to hear the secret. _She didn't tell me any of this! What secret? Oh, Ginny!_

"I killed someone."

_... SORRY, WHAT?_

"WHAT?" Ron, Hermione, Harry and Luna all bellowed.

"You… you killed someone with Black magic?" Lord Voldemort echoed incredulously.

"Yeah. It wasn't pretty," she said coolly.

"Well. Such a master of the Black arts, you should surely be familiar with your necklace. Oh – you're not? Let me tell you a story. Would you care to sit on my lap for the ickle fairy-tale?"

"I'll pass."

"YEAH!" Ron shouted. "You better pass on that!"

"Your loss." Lord Voldemort took a deep breath. "Once upon a time, many, _many _years ago, in the year 1422, there was a war. The Goblin Wars."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not stupid. Where is this going?"

"Calm down, brat!"

"Okay, story-times over!"

_I HAVE TO GET TO HER! _Draco couldn't see Ginny, but he knew the danger she was in, and he had to _save _her!

"Shut it!" snarled the Dark Lord. "Now. There was a an incredible Goblin sorceror, named Hladmir Montol the Great. He had many powers. Controlling Time, magical abilities, invisibility – and also, the power to control Death. Deal Death, stop Death… cause Death."

"Let me guess – you want his powers?" Ginny said boredly.

Ignoring this, Lord Voldemort continued. "However, having so many powers was a terrible burden. He created… a Stone. He cast it from the rawest, strongest material – black onyx. Montol set all of his powers into the Stone, and he was relieved of a fantastic, but awful responsibility. _But_! If someone were to find the Stone of Montol… the whole world could be destroyed in a millisecond."

"Wow, I see where it catches _your_ fancy," Ginny retorted.

"_I'm – not – done_!" said Lord Voldemort angrily. "So that Montol would never lose the Stone… he cast the powerful, black-onyx rock… into an _amulet_."

Draco finally pushed through the last pair of legs and looked out. Ginny was staring, biting her lip. Her fingers strayed to the necklace around her neck, gleaming against her collarbone.

Harry noticed him there and met his eyes for a second, before nodding curtly and returning his piercing green gaze to his ex-girlfriend. His arms were curled tight around Luna, kissing her hair almost _frantically_, tears sparkling in her _and his_ eyes.

"In the Goblin Wars, when Montol the Great was killed, the amulet still retained his power. If he had left his magic in his body, his powers would have died with him," said Lord Voldemort, gesturing to the mud around them. "But he didn't. And so, the Stone of Montol's powers live on."

A heavy, deafening silence hung in the air. Draco was staring at Ginny. She looked so helpless and fragile, clinging to the necklace. She was wavering in and out of view as her unstable feelings transported her in and out of invisibility. Her hair was matted and thick with mud and blood (both dragon and human), and cuts sliced through her robes and skin.

Yet she was beautiful.

"Ginny-" Draco blurted out. He wanted to bite the words back, and he instantly regretted sounding so desperate, but it was too late to stop those two syllables from spilling out of his lips.

She turned quickly to look at him, red hair spilling across her back and swooshing over one shoulder. Her side-fringe scattered messily in front of her eyes; which widened. And in approximately three and a half seconds, Draco saw a thousand things in her beautiful_, beautiful_ eyes.

Relief.

Shyness.

Pain.

That was all he could understand, and the rest was a terrifying, achingly stunning blur.

"Draco?" she whispered.

Lord Voldemort let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, how _sweet_," he jeered. "Young love. What a pity it ends here." He smirked at Draco, and then barked to the Death Eaters nearest Ginny. "Pettigrew! Rabastan! Nott!"

They all stood to attention.

"_Get her._"

Panic rose in Draco's stomach and flooded his body. He couldn't move. He merely watched in terror as the three Death Eaters formed a tight semi-circle around the back of the redhead.

"No – what are you – what's happening -" Ginny said, frightened. She turned to face them, and backed away… into a tall, lean, shroud-like Dark wizard. She turned around, and gasped.

"Boo," Lord Voldemort sneered.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!!" screeched Luna. "DON'T HURT HER – NO!"

"_Ginny_!" Hermione shrieked.

"GINNNNYYYYY!" Ron and Harry bellowed as one.

"So loud and raucous… Travers, Goyle. Restrain the heroes. Crabbe. Restrain he who was fool enough to turn from the Dark side at precisely the wrong time," commanded Lord Voldemort.

Crabbe sidled in front of Draco, spreading his arms wide, holding his wand towards the seventeen-year-old. "Havin' fun?" grunted the Death Eater.

"DON'T HURT HER!" shouted Ron, struggling against Travers.

"Ignore them, darling," said the Dark Lord, his voice malicious and dangerously soft. He raised his wand. "Are you going to come quietly, or am I going to have to blast your brains out!"

"NO!" yelled Draco. He was vaguely aware that he was clawing at Crabbe's face, firing random spells into the sky. "GINNY!"

Ginny cried out in fear. She tried to back away, but Nott, Pettigrew and Rabastan were crowded there – she couldn't escape. "_Draco_!" she screamed, as a last resort.

Draco distantly heard Ron say angrily, "Why did she scream for _him_?", distantly saw Hermione elbow him in the stomach, but none of that was sinking in…

"_Draco_!" Ginny screamed again, but then the Dark Lord stooped, folded his arms around the back of her legs, and hauled him over his shoulder. She started kicking, and pummelling Lord Voldemort's chest with her fists, shouting and yelling.

"LET GO OF HER!" Draco howled, leaning past Crabbe as far as he could.

Smirking at his own sarcasm, the Dark Lord held one hand to his chin, as if considering the concept. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully, "how about… _no_." He cackled evilly. "Come on, then," he sneered at Draco. "This is where you try and try to no avail to _rescue _the fair damsel."

"Yeah, well, I WILL!" Draco hollered, his eyebrows set into a determined glare filled with hatred, struggling to get away from Crabbe's restraint..

Lord Voldemort snorted. "Well, well. Try to keep up."

And then they ran.

**A/N:** Sorry that I didn't change this author's note last time. I forgot. Anywhoo. DUN DUN DUN! Agh! Ginny's being kidnapped! Will she survive? Will she and Draco ever declare their true love for each other? Will Ron and Hermione make up and be happy together? You'll have to wait to find out… -wink-


	47. IronGrey Hate Can Soften

**A/N: **SORRY, I realize that the last chapter was a little Mary-Sueish. And, yes, I have noticed that _my _Voldemort is OOC, but oh well. –frown- I like him. Gah! This is one of the last chapters! I said I'd finish by chapter fifty, but I'm already on fifty-one. My bad. Anywhoo. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty-Seven: Iron-Grey Hate Can Soften**_

_**GINNY AND DRACO**_

"_Draco!" Ginny screamed again, but then the Dark Lord stooped, folded his arms around the back of her legs, and hauled him over his shoulder. She started kicking, and pummelling Lord Voldemort's chest with her fists, shouting and yelling._

"_Come on, then," he sneered at Draco. "This is where you try and try to no avail to rescue the fair damsel."_

"_Yeah, well, I WILL!" Draco hollered, his eyebrows set into a determined glare filled with hatred, struggling to get away from Crabbe's restraint._

_Lord Voldemort snorted. "Well, well. Try to keep up."_

_And then they ran._

…

Dragging in the biggest breath that she could ever remember taking, Ginny screwed up her face and got out once last scream before she was hit on the back of the head with Lord Voldemort's wand:

"_DRACO_!"

Her scream transferred into a yelp of pain: "Ow!" as the Dark Lord whacked her with his wand.

"Shut it," he snapped at her, "or I'll just finish you here and now, leaving your brains to spill onto the ground for darling Draco to see."

Unwavering, Ginny replied, "I'm not frightened of you," though she was indeed terrified to the very core of her soul, before stubbornly screaming out again. "_Draco_!"

"Listen, you ignorant Weasley blood-traitor _brat_!" spat Lord Voldemort. "I will feel no sympathy in murdering you in front everyone who cares for you. _Including_ Malfoy. They will all watch as you bleed into the mud, and as the last breath of life leaves your pathetic body."

Ginny's lip curled in hatred. She didn't speak, just sucked in her breath and screamed, "DRACO!"

"Or, perhaps," he sneered, "I'll kill _them _in front of _you _first, so that the last thing you know is utter despair."

"That's not a very good plan, is it?" retorted Ginny. "Then I'd just be eager to die, and I'd welcome death."

"Yes… but then I wouldn't _give _it to you. You'd be a slave to the Dark, once we conquer and destroy all who oppose us," said Lord Voldemort heatedly. "And then, only when the last ounce of sanity and joy had left your pitiful, wasted body… would death come."

Ginny could no longer pretend that she wasn't scared. Angry, terrified tears swelled up in her eyes, and she started to shake. "You're sick!" she exclaimed. "_Draco_! DRACO!"

"Silence, fool!"

"_Draco, help me_!" she screamed. She needed to see his face, needed to see his beautiful eyes – hard, cold, iron by first impression, but blue once love had softened metal.

And then blue light flashed and the last thing she saw before she blacked out was her friends, far in the distance, falling limply to the mud.

**Draco**

That, Draco knew instantly, was the worst moment of his life. Worse than seeing his parents die. Worse than knowing that the last words to his father were angry and hating. Worse than seeing _her_ bleeding, because that was fake. Fake – but this was real. Real, and terrible.

If he didn't do something, Ginny would die.

_I HAVE TO SAVE HER._

But he was trapped, and Crabbe was too strong and too big to get away from. "Stupefy!" he tried desperately, but he wasn't powerful enough.

Crabbe's thick, ugly lips, twisted up into a malevolent, inhuman smirk of evil as he watched Draco's stupid, pathetic attempts at getting free.

As he saw the expression on the Death Eater's face, a thousand volts of pure, wrathful hatred coursed through Draco's tall, thin body. Rage took over him, and he transferred it into sheer power.

It wasn't enough.

Fixing a piercing steely stare on Crabbe, Draco drew back every good memory he had. His eyes lost their blue quality, and became two swirling orbs of iron-grey hate, stronger than anything, burning a hole in Crabbe's gaze.

_She turned quickly to look at him, red hair spilling across her back and swooshing over one shoulder. Her side-fringe scattered messily in front of her eyes; which widened. And in approximately three and a half seconds, Draco saw a thousand things in her beautiful, __**beautiful**__ eyes. "Draco?" she whispered._

"_So…" Ginny said vaguely, gesturing as if she was searching for something to say, "I didn't know that you… liked seafood." Draco grinned. "Neither did I," he said. He bit his lip nervously, and said, "Come on. Let's dance."_

_Ginny turned to Draco. She tilted her head to look up into his face, sending a shiver running down his spine. Draco extended his left hand; Ginny took it shyly, and stepped closer to him. His breath hitched with nervousness and shyness as as he slid one hand into the small of her back, and timidly placed her free hand onto his thin shoulder._

"_Ginny!" he cried. His back hurt and the slightest movement shook his entire body with pain – but the Lestranges had done worse, and he threw his pale, skinny arms around the girl that he loved enough to throw away his away for._

_He couldn't stop himself; he simply grabbed hold of her shoulders, and crushed her lips under his. It was the most amazing moment of his life, but the saddest with that, too – bittersweet was an understatement. If Draco was going to die, then he wanted this to go to his grave with him, the feel of Ginny and her long, messy red hair tangled between his fingers, her lips softly moving beneath his, capturing his lips time and time again in the most magical thing he'd ever felt. Time was the cruellest thing in the world, because she couldn't stay in his arms forever, pressed against his chest, her mouth under his._

"STUPEFY!" he bellowed, flailing Ginny's wand insanely.

Crabbe staggered backwards, but did not get knocked out. Instead, he was outraged, and now had a reason to want to kill Draco. "I'm sick of these brats," he growled. "Let's kill 'em!" he roared.

All at once, every Death Eater shouted, "STUPEFY!"

Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione and Luna all collapsed to the ground. Lying there, Draco was staring up into Crabbe's fat, ugly face. He groped in the dirt for his wand, and held it tight. _Be ready…_ he told himself. _Be ready…_

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" the Death Eaters bellowed.

"_PROTEGO_!"

No-one died. It was rather surreal. No-one died, because they were all protected. But, oddly, no-one protected _themselves._ They all heroically protected each other. Draco instinctively shot out towards Luna, who was limp and defenceless, and to whom he owed a life-debt. Luna fired the Shield Charm at Hermione, one of her best friends, who blasted protection at Ron, who she loved more than anything, despite her anger at him and wishing that she hadn't kissed him. Ron defended Harry…

And Harry protected Draco.

Draco had never thought that anyone, _anyone_ (except for Ginny, Luna and Myrtle, of course), would try and save him when he was stuck in a life-death situation. Yet… Harry. The Boy Who Lived, who Draco had always despised, and who had always loathed Draco in return.

_If I get out of this alive, I swear I'll buy Harry a house by the sea in the South of France. I'll empty my entire bank – and my father's precious will – if I have to._

"Sure," said Harry, picking himself up. "That'd be nice, Malfoy." Seeing Draco's panic-stricken and bewildered face, he let out a low laugh. "You were supposed to be talking to yourself, weren't you? Well, you let it out."

Draco reddened. "Well. Thanks," he stammered. "And… sorryforbeingsuchanarse… toyouandyourfriendsovertheyears… and – and everything, yeah."

"_You protected_ _him_?" said Ron incredulously. Hermione, Luna and Harry all glared at him, and then he sighed with what was apparently relief. "Thanks…" he looked solemnly at Draco. "Because you're probably the only person I've ever met who really and truly would give up your life for my little sister. And for that, you might as well be a Weasley."

Hermione gave a frustrated, delighted squeal and then threw her arms – and legs – around Ron, hugging him tightly and kissing him hard on the mouth. When they finally broke apart, Ron turned to Draco to say more… but he was already gone.

The seventeen-year-old Slytherin sprinted determinedly through the battlefield, holding his wand high, its dim orb of light guiding him through the night-time gloom. "GINNY!" he yelled. "Ginny – where are you?!"

He didn't except her to reply, but Draco was still listening keenly for her voice. It did not ring out, and he ran faster. Her screams had been cut off, and his heart pounded violently against his ribcage, slicing wafer-thin pieces off of it. _Please, please, don't kill her, I can't live through that for the third time, please, please_.

There! In the distance! _Was that her?_

**A/N:** Sorry, that wasn't a very good cliffie. Oh well. I hope you enjoyed it. Please press the little button below – or I'll never post again, and you'll be _tortured_ wondering if ickle Ginny's still alive.

**Notice:** Once this is finished, I am starting another Ginny fanfic, for which I am already outlining the plot. If you're interested. YES, it's another one of those stupid Ginny-Tom Riddle fics. There are Hermione-Tom fics, but I have only EVER read one good Hermy-Ridsy fic (Have You Ever, by Lady Moonglow. I recommend it. It's one of the ONLY three fanfics that's ever made me cry). And I think that Ginny-Tom is better because, you know, Tom possessed Ginny. Anyway. Enough of that. REVIEW!


	48. Lies, Puns and Mind Readers

**A/N: **Shalala… sorry that I didn't post this sooner. Erm. I don't really know what to say. It's just habit to write an author's note… wow. Chapter forty-eight. Even HP&OoTP only has thirty-eight. But I suppose dear Rowling's chapters are longer. These chapters are getting shorter, to spread out suspense and cliffies. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty-Eight: Lies, Puns and Mind-Readers**_

_**GINNY AND DRACO**_

"_Draco, help me!" she screamed. She needed to see his face, needed to see his beautiful eyes – hard, cold, iron by first impression, but blue once love had softened metal._

_And then blue light flashed and the last thing she saw before she blacked out was her friends, far in the distance, falling limply to the mud._

_The seventeen-year-old Slytherin sprinted determinedly through the battlefield, holding his wand high, its dim orb of light guiding him through the night-time gloom. "GINNY!" he yelled. "Ginny – where are you?!" There! In the distance! __**Was that her?**_

…

"Ennervate."

It was the first word that rang through Ginny's blissfully empty mind. Then her eyes fluttered open. For a moment she was confused – where was she? What was happening? Who was carrying her?

And then she remembered.

"_Draco_!" she screamed. "Draco – help me, please, _Draco_!"

Where was he? _Oh, please don't kill him! Please, don't let him be dead! Rescue me, please, Draco, I'm so scared – but I don't want him to get you. I'm so confused!_

"Shut it, you stupid brat," snarled Lord Voldemort. "He can't rescue you, and he never will. He doesn't care."

Tears welled up in Ginny's eyes. "He does care!" she screamed back at him, still swinging over his shoulder. "Draco is my best friend – _how dare you say that he doesn't care_! And – and-" Despite all her best efforts, she broke down into sobs, "-and… and I _love _him," she wept. "And I can never tell him… I – I love you…"

"You fool," snapped the Dark Lord. "Thinking that he could ever love you in return. Did he ever tell you why he returned? Oh no, of course not. He was sent to KILL you!" he cackled, raising his free hand to the sky in a clenched fist.

"Wh-what?" Ginny gasped. "No, that's impossible."

Lord Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Always with the dubiousness. He was a Death Eater! His assignment was to kill you and take the Stone of Montol. However, as you are still alive, I daresay you realise that he FAILED. And _that_, Weasley, is why he was being tortured to death."

Ginny felt her own breath choke her. "N-no… that's not – no," she cried. "But… how could he? I know him, I _love_ him! He'd never try to hurt me!" she said stubbornly, fighting back her despairing tears.

"You saw him back there," sneered Lord Voldemort. "I was hurting you… kidnapping you… did he make any move to escape? No, he did not."

"Because… because…" Ginny struggled to find an excuse; anything to get rid of the truth – _no! the lies! _ - that Lord Voldemort was telling her. "He rescued me from a chimaera! And he saved me from _you_, in the Shrieking Shack."

Another humourless laugh. "Weasley, are you as stupid as you look? If the chimaera had killed you, then yes, it would have finished his job, but it would probably steal, or worse, _eat_ the Stone! We couldn't have that."

"What about the Shrieking Shack?" cried Ginny, mulish in her beliefs.

"END THESE QUESTIONS!" roared Lord Voldemort. "We've arrived."

"_Arrived where_?" screamed Ginny, recalling what was happening. _I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, oh God, I'm going to die._ "Let me go!"

"As you wish." The Dark Lord abruptly dropped the redhead, and she fell, hard, onto the ground. "Welcome, my _dear_," he said sardonically, "to the dead centre of Hogsmeade." Then, he added dryly, "it's a pun, by the way."

Trembling, Ginny sat up and looked around. It was indeed a pun – the dead centre of Hogsmeade… they were at the Hogsmeade graveyard. The falling rain that plastered Ginny's hair to her skin had turned the cemetery's hard ground and parched grass into a thick, slightly yellow sludge. She shook as she saw the numerous tombstones. _One of those… one of those will soon be mine._

**Draco**

He could, vaguely, behind him, hear the Golden Trio, plus Luna – perhaps, it could be called the Golden Four now - running after him. Draco alone knew which direction Lord Voldemort was heading in, and it was him they followed in desperation for Ginny's safety.

But none where as desperate as Draco himself.

_Not Ginny. Please, __**please**__, not Ginny. Me – take me instead. Just please, please, don't hurt her. I can't – no – just __**don't hurt her.**_

For the thousandth time, Draco replayed Ginny's fake, but all the same horrific death, over again in his head. The imaae of her terrible death pushed him onwards, pushed him forwards, towards the only person in his entire seventeen-year-old life that he had ever given a damn about. And now… he gave more than a damn about Ginny. He would die before he let her be harmed.

Six ghoulish Inferi were blocking his path. Not slowing his stride for even a second, Draco whirled Ginny's wand around her head and bellowed hoarsely, "Destruschia!" His wand still above his head, he punched out his free hand, three fingers splayed out. Each solitary finger pointed to a different Inferi. With a screech of what sounded like nails on a chalkboard, amplified a million times, the harsh roar of rusted metal on rusted metal, a swirl of blood-crimson light flew from each of Draco's fingertips.

The light surged fatally through the air, before blowing gaping, see-through holes in the three closest Inferi. They gave tortured howls, before disappearing into the Netherworld with a whisper of death and a hiss of anger.

Draco was still running. He was now very close to the three remaining Inferi. Still not pausing, he brought down his punched-out hand, whipped his wand forwards, and shouted, "Confringo!"

What looked like a thin column of fire spouted from the tip of Draco's wand, spouting forwards at the Inferi. Draco was now upon them. Bracing himself for a nasty experience, gritting his teeth together, he sprinted straight through them. A chill like walking into a frozen Hell rang through his body, and despair filled every muscle, every ligament, every blood cell, freezing him. However, he tore through the other side, and then, as he shook off icicles clinging to his platinum-blonde hair, he heard the Inferi explode, screaming behind him.

Had this been a normal situation, Draco might have given his trademark smirk, or crowed a smart comeback to the whole event. But this was not a normal situation, and the seventeen-year-old had a mission.

"This way!" sounded Harry's raw yell. "Hurry!"

A slosh of footsteps, and Draco saw from the corner of his eye; Luna, a few metres behind him, tears welling up in her large grey eyes and sloshing down her muddy face. Her face was set into a determined look – it was such an unusual appearance on her usually sunny, daydreaming face that it was disconcerting, but reassuring at the same time that Luna cared about Ginny enough to snap out of Dream World for a heroic rescue.

Then he skidded to a halt, spraying mud up everywhere across his tattered clothes and his already-dirty face. _Where are they_? Luna stumbled to a halt beside him, shortly followed by Harry, then Ron, then Hermione.

"Where are they?" asked Hermione concernedly, sweeping a straggly curl out of her worrying brown eyes.

"I can't see them anywhere," replied Harry. Draco might have made a quip about his glasses, and how _could_ he see, but the comeback didn't even come into his brain, let alone into his mouth and off his tongue. This was deadly important, and Ginny took up every nook and cranny and crevice of his brain.

"THERE!" yelled Ron.

Draco spun around so fast that he nearly bowled Luna over with his flaring cloak, and he scanned where Ron was pointing… His shoulders slumped. "That's not her," he informed them. "That's Mulciber and Hannah Abbot."

"Where could they go?" said Luna, stamping her foot and staring out through the battlefield.

He did not reply; Draco continued running. Harry grabbed Luna's elbow and they hurried off after him. Ron made a move to go, but Hermione was glancing desperately between Draco's retreating back and Hannah Abbot, writhing on the floor. "I'm helping Hannah," she blurted out finally. "I'll catch up – I have to help her. Neville would kill himself if she was hurt, and we can't lose anyone else."

Ron looked reluctant to let her go, but went Hermione begged, "Please – go! Help Ginny," he nodded, swooped in for a swift, hard kiss, before taking off after Harry, Luna and Draco. Then the Muggleborn Head Girl sprinted towards Mulicber, wand ready.

Draco, meanwhile, was sprinting across to the side of the wide, muddy street. The once-pristine houses were falling down, and he ducked under a fallen wooden beam, ducking down an alleyway. There was the Italian restaurant where he and Ginny had danced; it was in flickering flames, falling to the ground.

Sliding on the cobblestones, Draco rounded a corner and found himself nearing the town square. Fiendfyre was attacking the statue of Sir Henry Hog, the founder of Hogsmeade; his polished marble head had rolled across the street and was dissolving in a gutter, lifeless stone eyes seeming to plead for help.

Run faster, run faster… skirting around the crystal-blue flames, jumping over fences, and ducking through an alleyway. Then he skidded to a halt, seeing a junction of roads. "She's here!" he shouted back to the others. "I know she is… I _know_ she is. I just…"

"D'you actually any idea where she is?" Harry panted dubiously, leaning over and resting his hands on his knees as he regained his breath.

Draco shot him a glare. Then he stared back ahead. _Come on… tell me something… show me where she is…_ Then, hardly daring to think that it could work, he rolled up his cloak sleeve.

Ron, Harry, and Luna all flinched; gasped; shuddered; when they saw the worn, and disfigured Dark Mark, standing out on his forearm. Draco ignored their reaction… closed his blue eyes… and laid his hand over the snake-and-skull.

"_Leglimens_."

_FLASH. Someone was trying to force him out desperately. FLASH. A zap of green light, and Professor Flitwick falling._ Draco had already seen that, though. He felt the Golden Four's eyes upon him, but he forced that to the back of his mind, and pushed deeper into Lord Voldemort's. _FLASH. "Well, well. Try to keep up." Running. Through the alleys. Past the Fiendfyre…_

"Where is Ginny?" Draco bellowed. His eyes were still squeezed shut, and he was shaking, trying to block the Dark Lord's attempts to get free. He could hear a patter of footsteps that was Hermione approaching.

Lord Voldemort heard the shout in his head. He could block himself from answering – but he couldn't think of not thinking about where Ginny was without thinking about it.

_Graveyard… mud… between the tombstones… red hair falling over her face, freckles standing out on her blanched face, trembling… "NO!" Lord Voldemort roared, throwing his hands to his head. "OUT! You will pay, boy…"_

Draco was hurled back into his own head so hard that he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Luna tried to catch him, but he dragged her down too. He lay there, and then he realized that he was covered in a mixture of rain, sweat and tears.

"Did you just…" Ron gaped.

"…invade Lord Voldemort's mind?" Hermione finished fearfully.  
"But – but that's impossible, the effort would have destroyed you!"

"It doesn't matter how I did it," Draco ground out, snapping his eyes open, "and it doesn't matter if he destroys me. If I don't find her, there will be nothing _to _destroy."

And then, terrible, and high-pitched, came a sound that all five teenagers knew too well. A scream of absolute terror.

**A/N:** I'm getting worse at these cliffies. Oh well. I shall have to practice. I hope you liked it. If you didn't, sod off. Just joking! Please review, and I shall give you a Harry Potter cookie.

**COOKIES:** Angry Ron has bright red raspberries that match the colour of his face. Dreamy Luna has radishes and coins in her cookie. Soothing Hermione has bits of caramel. Awkward Harry has bits of awkwardly-placed chocolate. Lovestruck Ginny has heart-shaped chocolate drops. Determined Draco is plain, because he's too intent on rescuing his favourite redhead to care about what kind of cookie he has.


	49. All We Know Is Falling, It Falls

**A/N: **The chapter name was random. It's from a song by Paramore, because I couldn't think of what else to call it. If someone has an idea, please review me. And, be warned: the end author's note has an extreme overuse of the word 'evil' in it. Thank you to reviewers, I love you, you make me high enough to keep rambling on about a stupid AU carry-on of a genius' work. Love you all. xxx

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Forty-Nine: All We Know Is Falling, It Falls**_

_**GINNY**_

_Trembling, Ginny sat up and looked around. It was indeed a pun – the dead centre of Hogsmeade… they were at the Hogsmeade graveyard. The falling rain that plastered Ginny's hair to her skin had turned the cemetery's hard ground and parched grass into a thick, slightly yellow sludge. She shook as she saw the numerous tombstones. __**One of those… one of those will soon be mine.**_

_And then, terrible, and high-pitched, came a sound that all five teenagers knew too well. A scream of absolute terror:_

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

…

"What are you going to do?" whispered Ginny fearfully. "Please – please don't hurt me." She had always considered herself brave, but now that she was alone, face to face with the image of Death itself, she was terrified.

Death would hurt. And then she'd be gone. She'd never see her family, or her friends, or _Draco_ – ever again._ If only… if only I hadn't taken that stupid necklace. Why couldn't I just leave other people's property __**alone**_

_No_, another part of her argued._ If you didn't get the necklace, then Draco wouldn't have come. You would have been forced to dance with Harry all day long at the Yule Ball. You would have trailed around after him on Valentine's Day. And… you wouldn't have known how it felt to really and truly be in __**love**_.

_And so_, she came to the conclusion, _this… this is all worth it._

It was true. The pain and emptiness would be worth it. Worth it, to be able to dance in true and utter bliss, and not forced to make shallow, stupid conversation. Worth it, to be slammed up against a wall for a kiss, and be able to ignore the pain in her back because of how much better the kiss was. Worth it, to be able to truly laugh and enjoy herself in the prescence of a _real _best friend – and perhaps… more.

"I don't care," she told Lord Voldemort. "I don't give a damn. Kill me." She tilted her chin up defiantly. "So go on. Give me the best you've got – I. Do. Not. Give. A. _Shit_. Because dying may hurt, but I'll be able to get through it by knowing this…"

The Dark Lord looked as if he was torn between anger and intrigued curiosity.

"By knowing," she finished spitefully, "that you're so powerful. So powerful and strong – you can have _anything_ and _everything _you ever wanted. But there's two things that you can _never_ receive. One is friendship – and the other… _love_."

Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "I have friends!" he spat.

"No you don't!" Ginny retorted. "You have _followers_. That's not the same thing, Riddle. You've always been a loner, and no-one's ever cared for you."

The Dark Lord's eyes flashed, and Ginny instantly knew that she had hit a very sore – and a very bad – spot. "How would you know?" he snarled, lowering his face close to hers. "You have _no _idea how it feels to be hated and despised by everyone who ever looked at you. YOU HAVE NO IDEA!"

"You're right," said Ginny soothingly. _Why not?_ She thought. _Anything's worth a shot right now. It's not like my situation could get any worse_. "I don't know how it feels to lose everyone. But you don't have to do this, you know."

"Don't give me the therapy crap," sneered Lord Voldemort. "It's too late for me. I have my entire take-over-the-world plan all sketched out, and Step One is _getting that Stone_!"

Ginny's eyes widened. She saw the wand rising before it happened, and she saw the flash of green light before it even shot out of the tip of the wand. In an instant, she scrambled to her feet and threw herself sideways silently. She saw the green rush of death behind her, and then it smashed into a tombstone, sending sparks and chips of stone flying in all direction. One chip slashed down Ginny's arm, drawing blood and letting it pool in one of her footprints like something from a Muggle horror-movie.

Lord Voldemort swore darkly under his breath, and then Ginny heard him mutter, "Lumos."

A bright glow floodlit the graveyard, casting fearsome shadows to dance across the muddy grass. It reflected off a few tombstones, blinding Ginny until she turned her head away from it.

"Come out, come out, Weasley," hissed Lord Voldemort maliciously.

She was tempted to yell_, nah, I like hide-and-seek_, but she knew that it would not be a wise move, and instead she silently crawled forwards.

The water, mixed with filth and her own blood, was soaking through her jeans, and rocks scratched her knees through the material. Her hands gripped at partially-underwater weeds and scrubs of grass.

_If I get through this, I'll probably have some weird fatal disease from getting mud in open wounds._

"I don't like this game," snarled Lord Voldemort. He was getting angrier.

Ginny slipped down in the mud, and she grabbed at anything nearby to hold herself up. Her fingers curled around the edge of a tombstone, and she dragged herself close to it. Pressing her back up against it, she peered through the gloom.

It was nearly impossible to see. Rain was now bucketing down, and the dark night, combined with the falling drops creating a thick curtain almost unfeasible to spy anything through. But… there. _Yes._ It was the church, tall and magnificent, though now it had a giant hole torn through the roof, and flames were licking feebly at the wood, being extinguished by the heavy downpour.

The stained-glass windows were still intact – they were the only thing that ever made Ginny enjoy going to church. She would sit there, zone out, and just admire the colours, shining down like a rainbow, on all the sitting people. Perhaps, in the church, Ginny could find safety.

She made up her mind in an instant, and she staggered to her feet. Then she ran. Feet pounding the semi-hard ground, sliding and sloshing through the mud. Hands grabbing at everything she passed, to shove her along.

Lord Voldemort spotted her. "STUPEFY!"

Ginny ducked her head down, holding the ends of her sodden red hair to remind herself to keep low. She scurried faster, and then slammed into the broken oak doors, banging her head on it. She rebounded off it, and nearly fell – but she regained her balance and pushed through the door, her fingers fumbling on the broad handle.

Then she was through.

With a gasp of relief, Ginny slammed the doors shut. It was the back door to the church: she was now in the room where the musical instruments were. The church itself was probably through one of the many doors that lined that other side of the room. She stumbled to a nearby chair. She didn't sit; if she did then she'd probably never get up again. Instead she leant on it, trying to get her breath back.

Her fringe stuck to her face in a sodden clump, turned brown by the rain it was saturated with. Rain still poured through the roof, but it wasn't as harsh as it was outside. Ginny pushed her hair back off her face, squeezing water out.

She took a deep breath and looked at the remaining stained-glass windows. A raindrop was streaking down a saint's face, giving the impression that the colourful glass martyr was crying. _Just like me_, Ginny thought glumly.

Suddenly there was a slam on the wide oak doors. Ginny intook a breath of fear sharply. She straightened up and backed away from the doors. As she retreated, her hands brushed over the back of each chair. When she touched nothing but air, she was at the front of the church – and then she could flee.

However, the doors were blasted open while the sixteen-year-old was still touching wood. And there, framed by darkness, clapping thunder, flashing lightning, and a torrid of rain, was the Dark Lord, his tattered cloak billowing around his bare, snow-white feet.

"Prayers won't save you now," hissed Lord Voldemort. "No-one can help you."

Ginny balled her hands into fists. "Come and get me," she snapped. As Lord Voldemort stepped forwards, she quickly loosened one fist and snatched Draco's wand from her pocket. She pointed it directly at the heart of the man in front of her – if, that was, he had a heart. Less than likely. So she shifted her aim to his face. "Back off," she spat. "I know Black magic, remember?"

Lord Voldemort looked indifferent, but alarm glittered in his crimson eyes.

"Er…" she muttered. _Think of a distraction…_ then, her brain flashing into creative-mode, she waved her wand, and, looking severe, shouted, "BANTAS…LUBRIUM… HAT!"

_Hat? Is that seriously the best that you could come up with?_

_Shut it._

Ginny flicked her wand forwards, as if casting a spell. Lord Voldemort knew that it was not a White magic spell, and he staggered backwards, rapidly casting wards and defences of Black magic. When he was finished, he grinned triumphantly up at the Weasley brat.

She was winding through the labyrinth of chairs, weaving past drum-kits and acoustic guitars. She was disappearing. Fast.

As she sprinted away, Ginny bit back mirth. _He thought that was a real spell! God, he's stupider than I thought._ However, she overestimated his stupidity, because he bellowed, "CRUCIO!" after her.

Ginny shrieked and flung herself under the grand piano. The jet of red light hit the leg, and the piano started to collapse… with the redhead underneath it. She gave a loud, "Wah!" of panic, and hastily slid out. It crashed down on her lower leg, but she yanked it out and ran on.

The pounding of her feet ringing in her ears, she thundered towards the other side of the music room, and she ducked through a side door. Ginny was now in the main church room. Here, the roof had fallen through and the timber, stone, and beams that used to hold it up were scattered across pews and through the aisle.

Before the door that she had just come through could even swing closed, Lord Voldemort was through it.

She spun to face him, and found herself staring at the tip of his aged wand. Her breath was coming fast and shallow; her hazel eyes did not leave the tip of the piece of wood directed towards her face. Already knowing that it was hopeless and that she was going to die, Ginny staggered backwards, tripping over pieces of wood.

"Goodbye, Weasley," said Lord Voldemort softly.

It was those two words that made Ginny realize the situation. She took a step backwards, shaking in fear; she then opened her mouth and let out a long scream into which she poured all of her fear. And she kept screaming until Lord Voldemort began to flourish his wand.

He cast it in a circle, jabbed forwards slightly; then, with an evil, ready-to-burst-into-cackles grin on his ghostly features, he roared, "AVARDA KEDARVA!"

Ginny's eyes widened in fear. She opened her mouth to scream. But before a second scream come out, the green engulfed her.

**A/N: **OOH! A good cliffie! Wow. That's probably the only good cliffie I've ever had. The cliffie is probably better than the rest of the chapter put together. The cliffie… okay, I think I took the admiring of the cliffie too far. Review if you liked it! Review if you didn't! Review if you don't actually give a damn! Review if you want… the newest… the best… the LORD VOLDIE COOKIE!

**COOKIES:** Angry Ron has bright red raspberries that match the colour of his face. Dreamy Luna has radishes and coins in her cookie. Soothing Hermione has bits of caramel. Awkward Harry has bits of awkwardly-placed chocolate. Lovestruck Ginny has heart-shaped chocolate drops. Determined Draco is plain, because he's too intent on rescuing his favourite redhead to care about what kind of cookie he has.

And, saving the best for last, is the Evil Lord Voldie cookie! He is shaped like something evil, and has evil-looking evil raisins (because everyone knows that raisins are EVIL!) and the main ingredient… evil! And the secret ingredient… is so evil that if I tried to tell you about how evil it was and what this so evil evil thing is, and how evil it tasted, that you'd die from an overload of EVIL! And then the Lord Voldie cookie's plan would have succeeded in his plot to kill you… Bwahahha…

Just for good measure… EVIL!


	50. Nightmarish Daydreams

**A/N: **Lalalala. Sorry, if it's a bit late. I have not looked over it, because I couldn't be bothered. Also because I'm now terrified that if I don't update quickly, I will stalked and killed by numerous angry reviewers. You know who you are. Oo

Also, I'm sorry to Neville fans. It had to happen. His heart will break. But it will heal, I promise. I'm NEARLY satisfied with the hearts I've broken so far. Draco, three times. Ginny, once. Neville, once. Ron, once. Who's next?

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty: Nightmarish Daydream**_

_**DRACO**_

_And then, terrible, and high-pitched, came a sound that all five teenagers knew too well. A scream of absolute terror._

_He cast it in a circle, jabbed forwards slightly; then, with an evil, ready-to-burst-into-cackles grin on his ghostly features, he roared, "AVARDA KEDARVA!"_

_Ginny's eyes widened in fear. She opened her mouth to scream. But before a second scream come out, the green engulfed her._

…

Ron blanched, and started shaking. For want of something to take his mind off of what was happening, Harry turned to Hermione. "How's Hannah Abbott?"

The Head Girl squeezed her eyes closed. "I was trying to forget about that, Harry," she mumbled. When the others only stared blankly at her, she opened her eyes; they were shiny with fresh tears. "She was dead by the time I got to her."

A gasp dragged itself from Luna's mouth. "Poor Neville," she whispered.

Her words struck home to Draco. He imagined - _coming back from a terrible battle, blood-stained, exhausted, and despairing by the sights of all the dead. He ran through the castle, looking for Ginny… but where was she? He ran into Hermione. "Where's Ginny?" he asked worriedly. Hermione burst into tears. "Draco, I'm so sorry! S-s-she died."_

The nightmarish daydream wrenched at Draco's heart, and he looked up at them all. "Can we move on, now?" he demanded brusquely. "I'm sorry about Abbott, but listen – if we don't get to Ginny… then _she'll _die, too." He knew that he was being callous to the Hufflepuff's death, but he pushed his guilt aside. "Look, we couldn't do anything about Abbott! She was dead when you got there – but Ginny… Ginny's still alive."

_Or so you think_.

_SHUT UP_, Draco screamed inside his head.

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding. He slid one arm around Hermione's shoulders, gave her a comforting squeeze (for she was still crying about Hannah's death and how Neville would react), and then looked up at Draco, his green eyes showing that he would go to the ends of the earth for his ex-girlfriend, which reassured Draco more than a short hug ever could, coming from Harry. Then, the once-arrogant Gryffindor said, "Where is she?"

His ice-blue flicked over each member of the Hogwarts party, before speaking darkly, "She's in the graveyard."

Ron and Hermione cast a wary glance at Harry, who had sucked in his breath and paled. _Why?_ Then Draco recalled that Harry had met Lord Voldemort in a graveyard – at that time, the Dark Lord rose to power, Cedric Diggory was murdered and Harry himself was nearly killed too.

Harry, however, braced himself, and said, "Which way?"

A high-pitched scream rang out.

_GINNY!_ Draco panicked, and, as a way of replying to Harry, he took off towards where he knew the churchyard to be. Harry, Ron, Luna and Hermione followed in hot pursuit, their feet beating a tattoo on the cobblestones.

Breath racing, rough and ragged, they stampeded around the bend, and through the back streets of Hogsmeade. Finally, through the downpour, the dreary stone church rose up from the fog. And before it, the graveyard.

Sludge rolled in minuscule waves around the tombstones, a combination of mud, rainwater, and what looked menacingly like blood. However, Ginny was nowhere to be seen; nor was Lord Voldemort.

"I – can't – see," moaned Harry, swiping angrily at his fogged-up spectacles.

Hermione took hold of his elbow to calm him, and said soothingly, "_Impervius_." She cast her wand around at each person's face in turn, finishing with her own. Then, holding her wand high, she uttered, "Lumos," and advanced towards where Draco was standing, at the head of the group, now peering through the rain.

"Can you see her?" she asked concernedly, her lower lip trembling.

Draco shook his head in response, stubbornly refusing to let himself be torn from his scanning of the graveyard.

"Perhaps she's-" Ron suggested helpfully, but was cut off by a loud scream. Draco blanched, and Luna lunged forwards to grab at him and hold him back from storming into the church and probably doing something stupid. Her hands closed on the hood of his battered robe, which he immediately shrugged off and fell into a sprint that lead him winding through the graves.

Now lacking his protective cloak, the rain quickly drenched through Draco's clothing, near-freezing him in the dank February night air. Water ran through platinum hair, gluing it into clammy white strands, as if the rain had leeched it of whatever colour it had ever retained.

He ran forwards, wand clutched in hand, and slammed through the broken doors. They swung with a hideous creak and then crashed into the stone walls, sending rock-dust flying into the damp church atmosphere.

Draco saw the fallen grand piano. Its legs clearly showed use of the Slashing Hex, a Death Eater spell invented by Rodolphus Lestrange. _He's here._

The blonde then spied the side-door nearest the destroyed piano – if it could still be called a piano in its new, near-gaseous state – and raced towards it. He could hear pounding footsteps behind him.

Harry hurdling lithely over musical instruments and chairs; Ron smashing through, making a lot of noise and general chaos; Hermione delicately skirting each; Luna weaving through the mess, peculiarly untouched.

Not waiting for them to catch up, Draco slammed into the side-door, scrabbling at it with his hands to wrench it open.

It didn't.

Frustrated and with a growing sense of foreboding, he groped at the door-handle and fumbled with it for a second, breathing hard. Then his eyes widened in horror and fear.

_No_!

"Alohamora."

Nothing.

"Confringo."

FLAMES – and they hit a Ward.

Draco let out a short, anguished yell of anger; he flew at the door, kicking and kicking and slamming his fists against the wood, rage and despair pulling through every muscle.

A gasp.

"No! Draco, stop it," said a female voice, and arms were winding through his elbows, dragging him backwards, though he was panting and struggling desperately. It was Luna and Hermione, combined to haul him away from the door.

Luna wound her fingers through one of Draco's hands. _Ginny does that._ He jerked back, tearing his hand from hers, shaking. Hermione gripped his elbow. "Draco – it's alright – what's… what's wrong?" she asked.

Eyes closed. Too much to handle. Couldn't cope if she died a third time.

Harry crossed to the door and looked at it warily. Just then, a scream resounded from inside. Draco's eyes snapped open. He looked around at them all.

Another scream.

"It's… locked."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and Ron stood, looking dumfounded. Harry glanced between them all, seeming hard in thought. Luna stared distantly at the ceiling, but Draco knew that she was racking her brain for a way to get through.

"What about 'alohamora'?" she suggested

"There's a Ward on the door," Harry observed, casting a purple jinx at it.

"Is it Black or White?" asked Hermione very suddenly.

Harry shot her an appraising look, as if trying to see if she was serious. Her panic-stricken, tear-tracked face spoke all solemnity, and he considered the door for a second. "I don't know," he admitted. "I can't tell them apart."

"Draco?" Hermione turned to him.

"Why me?" Draco suddenly exploded. "Just because I'm a bloody _Death Eater_ doesn't mean I can help us! If I knew how to open it," he spat, malice dripping from every word, "don't you think I would have _done _it already?"

"Well, I just-" she squeaked.

_I LOVE HER – am I __**really**__ going to let her die?_

"_This is the girl I am freaking in __**love **__with_!" he shouted. "Please, just… STOP-"

"Draco, stop!" Hermione shrieked at him. The shrillness of her hysteria silenced him, and he stared down at the bushy-haired brunette expectantly. She took a deep breath. "I'm just saying… you heard what Ginny back on the battlefield. She knows Black magic. What if… what if _she _put those Wards up?"

_No. That's – that's bloody impossible._

"What if she-" Hermione's voice cracked.

_DON'T SAY IT._

She inhaled deeply again, and then said fearfully, "what if she's sacrificing herself?"

_NO!_

"She wouldn't!" cried Draco. "She knows what I'd do if she died – she knows how I feel-"

"But does she?" Luna interrupted. "Did you ever actually tell her you loved her?"

"I JUST SCREAMED IT OUT LOUD, FOR SHIT'S SAKE!" Draco bellowed. "I love you, _I love you_, I LOVE YOU! Just please – please, don't – DON'T YOU DARE-"

He fell silent abruptly.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Luna had all flinched at his hollering, but now they stared openly at his quietness. "What?" asked Ron, following his gaze.

_What if…_

Draco was staring at the walls of the church. Or, more accurately, something embedded into the wall. "I think…" he said, very slowly, drawing out each word like bubblegum. "I think I have an idea."

**A/N: **That cliffie sucked. Too bad. Did you like it? Please review and tell me. What could Draco's idea be? Get it right, and I will publish a oneshot about a Harry Potter thing of your choice (character romance, angst, comedy). Luff, Poppop.


	51. Stained Glass

**A/N: **I have not looked over it, because I couldn't be bothered. Also because I'm now terrified that if I don't update quickly, I will stalked and killed by numerous angry reviewers. You know who you are. Oo

IT WAS A STAINED GLASS WINDOW! HOORAY TO DANCINGONTHEGRAVE, WHO WON THE COMPETITION. Anyway. This has a bit of humour in it, though I really shouldn't, because this is the climax, and it should just be melodrama and sappy don't-worry-I'll-save-you-darling romance. Bleurgh. I'm starting to twitch, because its all so serious. I NEED A BREAK!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty-One: Stained Glass**_

_**DRACO AND GINNY**_

_Draco was staring at the walls of the church. Or, more accurately, something embedded into the wall. "I think…" he said, very slowly, drawing out each word like bubblegum. "I think I have an idea."_

_Draco let out a short, anguished yell of anger; he flew at the door, kicking and kicking and slamming his fists against the wood, rage and despair pulling through every muscle. "It's… locked."_

"_Goodbye, Weasley," said Lord Voldemort softly. Ginny's eyes widened in fear. She opened her mouth to scream. But before a second scream come out, the green engulfed her._

…

Ginny's eyes were still open, but the church had disappeared. She was seeing a small red-haired girl with pigtails tiptoeing into her brothers' broom cupboard… blowing out birthday candles… shrieking, dancing on the table, waving a Hogwarts letter in the air… waking up in a dark chamber, in Harry's arms… kissing Dean Thomas in a gloomy corner, being caught by Ron, a livid look on Harry's face… Quidditch match, wind in her hair… Harry's mouth pressed to hers, so hard it hurt…. Dumbledore's funeral, screaming on the inside as Harry told her it was over… screaming on the inside again as he _dared_ to ask her out again… losing a chess match to Luna … Yule Ball, in the cold air, close to Draco… a kiss… a battle… a churchyard… _and a flash of green light._

"No!" Ginny tried to scream, but her vocal chords were twisting in half-goblin, half-Parseltongue, letting loose strange words that had not been heard in the wizarding world for thousands of years… her hazel eyes drained of all colour, until they were lidless white, staring up at Lord Voldemort.

The panic was evident in his crimson slit-eyes, but he masked it by shuttling more power down into the Killing curse.

Ginny threw back her head, suddenly silent. Her eyes, still white, narrowed lethally. She did not say a word, but her lips moved wordlessly, and the green light flew around her.

Again the protective bubble had surrounded Ginny, but it was absorbing the Killing Curse, drawing on Lord Voldemort's strength. The dome was glowing green, flashing dark and light; it was smoking and any rain that touched it evaporated immediately.

Knowing instinctively that if he kept attempting Avada Kedavra, he would have his power dragged out of him by the strange, quite obviously Stone-enhanced bubble, Lord Voldemort slashed his wand sideways and ended the curse. He was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring.

Ginny was still glowing green; however, she had lost the demonic, possessed-by-Satan stance, and was standing tall, her bloody, scraped chin tilted up, her again-hazel eyes glinting in the gloom. She moved her fingers to the Stone, and let a smile tug at one corner of her lips. Then, soundlessly, she collapsed.

**Draco**

The five pounded through the graveyard, hair either whipping back in the icy wind or plastered to numb faces. Mud streaked up their length of their bodies as they wheeled around the graveyard and sprinted down the side of the church. Slippig and sliding, Draco could barely see; he threw out a hand and slid it along the wall of the bumpy church-wall, grazing his palm to pieces, but he didn't care. He felt what he was looking for. Smooth glass, edged with ridges.

"Everyone!" Draco yelled. "This is it!"

He could see the murky outlines of Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ron crowding near him. A 'lumos' beam shone at his feet, and through it Draco could see Hermione's muddy hand, and therefore knew where to look for her face, and roughly where everyone else was.

"Follow me in, okay?" Draco commanded. "I'll go first. _Stand back._" Cliché. Who gives a damn?

_Ohhh, hell, this is gonna hurt._

_**DOES IT MATTER?**_

Draco considered it. No. He stepped backwards a few times, turned to face the church, and balled his hands into fists. One deep breath. Two deep breaths. _Oh hell, oh hell. _He sorely wished he hadn't abandoned his protective cloak, but thrust back his doubt. "Ready or not," he muttered. He sprinted forwards as fast as he could, at the broad window waiting. The red-green-blue-brown-yellow of the painted saints standing there, all looking very solemn and holy, panicked and sidled out to another window. Not fast enough.

And he jumped.

**Ginny**

For a moment or two the church was silent, aside from the roaring of the storm outside, and Lord Voldemort's heavy breathing. He was staring at the sixteen-year-old girl, eagle-spread out on the floor in a very un-ladylike manner, her legs and arms sprawled left, right and centre.

Was she dead?

Ginny Weasley's finger twitched and then her cinnamon eyelashes fluttered against her pale cheeks; then hazel trembled open, round and frightened. Breathing ragged, she stared at the floor close to where her head was, before hauling her body to sit up, shaking with the effort.

_What… what happened?_

"Oh," said Lord Voldemort softly. "Did I miss out something from the story?" he stroked a finger down his pointed white chin. "Hmm… yes, I think I did, rather."

_Not more_, Ginny couldn't help but think. However, she was partly intrigued and partly scared by how little she knew about the necklace she had barely taken off all year. Her head hurt, and she wondered why she had passed out briefly.

"Dear old Montol couldn't compress his magic," explained the Dark Lord, with the air of telling something to someone very thick, "to a fair extent, anyway. When his magic increased, he had to enlarge the Stone. That, Weasley, is why the amulet is so inordinately large.

"However, when the Goblin Wars were declared…" Lord Voldemort continued, "well. It wouldn't do well to be carrying around an unnecessarily large pendant of power, would it? No…" he stretched out his finger towards Ginny's face. She flinched away from him, and froze solid as he drew a line down her ridge of her jaw, before scratching her with long, torn nails.

"Where are you getting with this?" Ginny tried to speak confidently, but her voice wavered and she was fighting a losing battle with her lower lip – _don't wobble, don't wobble…_

Lord Voldemort shot the redhead a glare, before straightening. "The Stone," he said, in a voice with a slightly bored, learnt-by-heart tone in his voice, "can only cope with as much magic as it can fit inside it. To minimize excess weight, Montol shrunk it precisely to the limit of the magic it held at the time. Now, doubtlessly, you've been collecting some magic over the year… yes, or no?"

_The falling boulders… that was what protected me_, Ginny realized. She did not allow the Dark Lord a response, but he understood her silence perfectly and laughed quietly.

"Foolish girl," he sneered, "you are _weak, _and the Stone of Montol has been sapping on your sadly limited magical powers all year. Added to whatever harm it has protected you from, and the strength drawn from my Killing Curse… well, it's just about full to the brim!" He raised a smooth, hairless eyebrow. "And that is _not _a good thing."

"W-what will happen if it's too full?" said Ginny, her voice quavering and barely resounding in the hollow church.

"It will explode," said Lord Voldemort simply. "It will shatter with force equivalent to what Muggles know as an atomic bomb. All its magic will be unleashed into the world, and you, little Weasley brat, will have a thousand tiny pieces of broken black onyx driven through your pathetic body before you can even scream. It will puncture every organ, every artery… you'll die before you even know that you're dying."

_Don't shake. Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that you're scared_.

"Not scared, Weasley?" asked Lord Voldemort sarcastically, as if reading her thoughts. "You _should_ be. When I attack you with the last colour that you will ever see – the lurid, toxic, green of the Killing Curse – you will die. Either your precious Stone will not defend you, and your life will be wiped from your body like a small stain… or the Stone _will_ defend you, and you will be torn to pieces by the destruction of the most powerful magical object in the Wizarding World."

Something didn't fit.

"I don't get it," Ginny said, bewildered. "You want the Stone of Montol. Why are you destroying it?"

"I don't want the _Stone_. I want its magic," he explained. "And the magic will flow easily without the Stone." The Dark Lord gave a disbelieving snort. "Do I honestly look the kind of person who cares about accessories?"

"Well, yeah, from the matching handbag," sneered Ginny, throwing out the teasing quip before she could stop herself.

Surprisingly, two spots of colour appeared high on Lord Voldemort's cheeks. His red eyes flew down to her, then on, on to the tattered black satchel that he always brought with him. "It's not a handbag!" he shouted angrily. "It's where I keep my matters of evil!"

_Leave it, Ginny!_ But no, she couldn't stop with the taunting, and more came forth from her tongue. "'Matters of evil? That's a new one," said Ginny dryly. "I usually hear it just called _lipstick_."

"SILENCE!" roared Lord Voldemort. "AVADA KEDA-"

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut.

The green light started to spiral forwards.

She waited for her life to flash before her eyes all over again.

And then, suddenly, a tremendous crash screamed through the church.

Ginny snapped her eyes open and stared sideways. As she saw the flying pieces of glass flying as the stained-glass church window imploded everywhere, she decided that staring was a bad idea. She shrieked and hid her face in her elbow, skidding backwards.

The Dark Lord gave a yell of shock and stumbled backwards in a most un-Lordlike fashion.

_The Death Eaters are here. I will die. My life… is over. Draco… I'll love you forever._

Swallowing her fear, Ginny looked up. At first, she saw no-one. Then someone staggered to his feet, out of the broken and disarrayed pew-benches. And she saw was a tall, totally sodden, bedraggled boy with pale hair so plastered to his skull that he seemed bald. Who gave a damn? He had smashed through a window, and he was Ginny's knight in shining armour.

**A/N: **Aw. How sweet. I hope you liked the handbag quip. It just suddenly came to me one day. Review if you liked it!

**Message: The winner of the competition from the last chapter is DancingOnTheGrave! She is getting a one-shot written for her. –frown- You could have had one too, but did you vote? NOOOO. –pout-**


	52. Coward

**A/N: **This has no humour. It is a rather depressing chapter. I may have leaked a few tears here and there, writing it… -dignified sniff- but I may not have. That's all I have to say. Thanks to reviewers, I love you! ENJOY.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty-Two: Coward**_

_**DRACO AND GINNY**_

_And then, suddenly, a tremendous crash screamed through the church. At first, she saw no-one. Then someone staggered to his feet, out of the broken and disarrayed pew-benches. And she saw was a tall, totally sodden, bedraggled boy with pale hair so plastered to his skull that he seemed bald. Who gave a damn? He had smashed through a window, and he was Ginny's knight in shining armour._

…

"Ginny?"

It was a whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the storm that was now allowed in copiously, and the clinking of glass; but the redhead heard it and it made her heart turn over in her chest.

_He tried to kill you. He was on Voldemort's side. Don't._

Feeling as though she might burst into tears if she had to tear her hazel eyes from his face, still searching for her in the church, Ginny looked over. Hermione and Luna were scrambling through the window, Harry was already in the church staring at her, and dear Ron was stuck, trying to get down from the high window without having to jump, as everyone else had.

_LOOK AT HIM_, Ginny's heart screamed, and she refused, until she realized that everyone was watching her, and, from her position on the floor, she turned her head back to him and whispered, "Draco."

His head spun so fast that Ginny feared for extreme whiplash, and then his eyes found her. "GINNY!" he shouted, and ran forwards, smashing everything in his path.

_What's he doing? He's here to kill you – Draco, I'm so scared, I need you – he wanted to kill you, Ginny, how can you deny that – with the fact that I love him more than anything?_

"_Ginny_!" Luna screeched, and the others joined in on the joyous shrieks. Then, it seemed, that they only noticed Lord Voldemort.

"How sweet," he sneered.

Draco froze in his path. His blue eyes narrowed. "Get the hell away from her," he snarled, drawing his wand. He ran forwards again, his face twisted into an ugly leer.

_No, Draco, don't! – Don't say it, Ginny, he musn't know you care, or he'll kill you – he __**wouldn't**_

"Er – _no_," retorted Lord Voldemort, mocking consideration. Still Draco sprinted forth, and, almost lazily, the Dark Lord flicked his wand at him. "Crucio."

"NO!" It tore itself from Ginny's throat before she could remind herself that she wasn't supposed to care. She tried to scramble to her feet and run to the Slytherin, but she was too weak and her knees wouldn't support herself.

Draco's eyes suddenly collided with Ginny, and she felt him struggling to not scream. Sobs racked her small frame and tears glistened in her hazel eyes. Then he ripped his gaze away, and, against what his eyes had just been telling Ginny, he let loose a terrible scream that clawed at her heart.

"Stop it!" Ginny cried. "_Please_! _STOP IT_!" she screwed up her face, feeling his agony, the tears now flowing freely down his face. "_You're hurting him_!"

"No duh, Sherlock," sneered Lord Voldemort.

Harry ran forwards, yelling out. A swirl of the wand, and the Gryffindor fell.

"Harry!" Ginny gasped, her mouth gaping open. "Don't – _don't_ – hurt them – _please_!" she shrieked. "Have the silly necklace, please, just don't – _stop it!"_

The dark-haired boy struggled to his feet and rasped for breath, leaning heavily against a pew, his glasses broken and lopsided.

Lord Voldemort slashed sideways with the piece of wood he held, and Draco collapsed in the lines of pews, disappearing from sight.

"No!" Ginny cried. "Where is he? Where is he – DRACO!"

"Shut it – _crucio_!" the Dark Lord snapped at her.

PAIN – PAIN – PAIN – PAIN –

Tearing at her guts –

"DON'T HURT HER!"

Bellowing Ron, screeching Luna, shrieking Hermione, shouting Harry, screaming Draco, all trying desperately to get to her –

PAIN –

"_Contero_!" a high voice barked.

The spell was off, and Ginny wheezed and panted on the church floor, trying to regain her breath. Pushing her red hair out of her face with trembling fingers, she looked up to see what Lord Voldemort had cast – she was unfamiliar with the spell, and she was sure that it could not bode well.

Nothing seemed to have happened.

Then Draco moved forwards and gasped out, his hands flying to his chest. There was nothing there, but he was obviously in some pain. Gritting his teeth, he moved forwards again, and yelled out.

"What's happening?" Ginny shrieked. "What are you doing to him?"

Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ron all made as if to hurry towards Ginny, but they all similarly doubled over in pain. Draco took two more steps towards her, but he fell to his knees, roaring, his voice echoing through the large church room.

"Stop it!" Ginny cried. "Stop it – whatever you're doing, just _stop it_! You're – you're _hurting them_! What are you doing?" she curled her fingers into her cloak, cutting her nails into the material tight, tears staining her face.

"This, Weasley, is the effect of the Bound-Crushing Curse," said Lord Voldemort gleefully. "The closer they get to the target – that is, you… they more the curse will contract on their chest. Eventually, all breath will be crushed out of them, and they will die, metres away from you."

Ginny cried out. "No – no, Draco, stop it! Don't come any closer! _Please_!"

"What's he doing to her?" Ron yelled, panicking. He jumped forwards, crashed into the pews, and disappeared from sight, shouting with pain.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Draco bellowed, inching closer. He was clutching at his sides, and his breath was loud, obviously torn and coming through his lungs with difficulty. "Don't you – _dare_ – touch – her – or," he wheezed, and the rest of his sentence trailed away.

"Please, don't hurt him! Don't come any closer – it'll _kill _you!" Ginny sobbed, and then suddenly the Cruciatus curse was upon her. A wail transformed into a scream of agony.

"GINNY!" hollered Ron, and he looked as if he was considering sprinting at Lord Voldemort and snapping his neck, but Hermione grabbed his arms and together the two Gryffindors stumbled backwards.

"Hermione!" Harry said, horrified. "What are you doing – we have to save Ginny!"

"No!" Hermione cried. "We – we _can't_, Harry! Don't you see?" Tears flowed down her grubby cheeks. "We're cursed. If we get close to Ginny, _we'll _die. And then she'll have no hope!" she broke into sobs on Ron's shoulder.

"We can't do anything," Luna said quietly, tears glistening as she cried silently. "All that we can do is stand here."

Harry choked on his own breath, looking in pure despair between the two girls. Who did he choose?

Ginny? Luna?

_He'll never choose me. I'm just his best friend's annoying little sister._

_What am I saying? I don't WANT him to choose me. I want him to go with Luna, and be safe. Even if it means that I die._

"Go," cried Ginny. "Go, Harry! Get back – Luna's right. You can't help me! Help _yourselves_! Please!"

Looking as though he wanted to fall down and cry, Harry stumbled back a few steps and then grabbed onto Luna for emotional support. "I won't leave you, Ginny," he whispered. "I'm right here."

"JUST LEAVE HER!" Draco suddenly shouted. "_LEAVE _HER! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? SHE'S GOING TO DIE, SHE'S GOING TO – SHE'S GOING-" Words seemed to fail him. "Ginny…"

He staggered a few steps forwards, and Ginny saw true, genuine tears of pain in his blue eyes. He cried out, and staggered, before doubling over and collapsing against a chair.

"CRUCIO!" Lord Voldemort yelled.

_Pain pain pain pain _–

It was ripping through her, tearing out her eyes, and she could almost feel blood pouring out of her brain – except that she was whole – and she wished that she wasn't – so that she could just _die _and the pain would stop…

"Don't hurt her!" Draco hollered. "DON'T – TOUCH – HER!"

His words struck hard onto Ginny's last nerve.

"_What do you care_?" she yelled past the pain.

The Dark Lord swept his wand aside and stepped curtly backwards, looking smug as he waited for an argument to unfold.

_Well, he won't be disappointed_.

Draco looked shocked. The tears in his eyes, and the mouth gaping open spoke his astonishment and hurt at her words, but she _had _to say it.

"_What do you care, if I live or die_?" Ginny screeched at him. "You _don't_! That's what! You're – _you're on his side!_"

The boy started to shake, but he was still staring openly at her. "Ginny-"

"_Don't even start_! I don't want to hear it! You – _you can't argue, can you_?" she shouted. "Because it's true! _It's true! _You were – were going to…" she broke down into sobs, and couldn't continue.

She vaguely noticed that Draco looked like he was being torn into pieces. _Well, good! He deserves it, that lowlife, I wish – I wish –_

"Ginny, don't cry, I-"

"_You were going to kill me_!" she screamed.

Harry gasped, and Ron, his face contorted with rage, ran at him, only to be dragged back by a weeping Hermione. Luna's small jaw fell slack.

And Ginny was horrified to see that Draco had no reply for this.

_Holy crap. It was true._

She had been waiting for an outraged, wounded reply, an indignant, _I would never do that_ – but it didn't come. Draco merely stared, continuing to look at her as though his heart had been ripped out.

"So it's true,"she said, so quietly that she could barely hear herself. She averted her gaze from Draco's eyes. She hated him so much – and yet she loved him – and yet he wanted to kill her – and looking into those bottomless pits of blue would tear her apart. "That – _that _was why you were being tortured." She snapped her focus back to him. "Because you failed! You failed because you were a _coward_."

**Draco**

_**Oh god, what have I **__done___

"Ginny…" Draco whispered. He needed to tell her the truth, tell her how much he cared, tell her _everything_.

"DON'T SAY ANYTHING!" she screamed. "I don't care – I thought that you would protect me, and instead it was as far from the truth as it could ever get! _I hate you_! Ron was _right_, you're just a weak, lowly Slytherin _bastard_ doing other people's dirty work! _I rescued you from that god-forsaken castle, and nearly got myself killed for it!_ And everything that you said, everything that you _did_, afterwards, was all just a big _lie_! _I hate you!_"

"I thought you were good!" Luna burst out, now officially crying, shuddering with tears. "I thought you cared about all of us!"

_Even Luna's against me!_

Suddenly, Draco found he couldn't take anymore in.

"YOU'RE RIGHT!" he suddenly shouted. "You're right, okay, Ginny? Does that make you feel any better? _Does it_? Knowing that it's all true – knowing that I'm just a, so help me God, a _lowly Slytherin bastard_?"

Now it was Ginny's turn to look shocked. The others, too, because he was admitting that he had been trying to kill her. Draco thought vaguely in the back of his mind, _no, Draco, quick, back-track, you're going to end up telling her things that you don't want to_, but he ignored it.

"YES, I was supposed to kill you! YES, YES, YES – that _is _why I came back to Hogwarts! And that _is _why I was being tortured!" He was now shaking. "I failed! _FAILED_! I was supposed to kill you immediately! I wasn't supposed to keep putting it off! I wasn't supposed to make friends with you, Ginny, you weren't supposed to be nice to me, and you weren't supposed to ask me to Hogsmeade! I wasn't supposed to dance with you! I wasn't supposed to _like _dancing with you. _Hell, _Ginny, _**I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you!**_" he screamed at her.

Shocked silence.

Ginny was staring at him, hazel eyes wide, looking at him as though she was about to be sick.

Luna was tearful.

Harry was understanding, nodding slowly.

Ron was still trying to get to Draco to rip his head off and wedge it where the sun doesn't shine.

Hermione was positively howling.

Lord Voldemort was smug.

And Draco's heart was breaking.

He stared at her. His heart had just officially been torn out of his chest and shredded. All the happy feeling he had that she was safe and alive had long disappeared. And all that Draco wanted to do now is cry, cry, and cry, before dying quietly in the corner and retreating to a safe cloud in heaven.

_But I won't go to heaven. I'll go to hell, because I'm evil. And I deserve it. Just like Ginny says._

"What do you want me to say?" Draco whispered. Tears were visible in his blue eyes, and though he was ashamed of them, he let them fall. "What – _what_ – do you want me to say, Ginny?" his voice choked up. "That… that I love you so much it _hurts_?" he croaked. "Because I do. I love you. And I probably always have. And I'm sorry for all those petty times that I insulted you, or laughed at you, or… or all those other things. It doesn't matter if you don't forgive me. Jesus, I wouldn't forgive _myself_."

He trailed off, and another pure tear glided down his gaunt, blood-baked face. Ginny had no reply. She stared blankly at him, and Draco's heart crumbled into a tiny black pieces for the third time.

"Aw," sneered Lord Voldemort. "How sweet."

They all whipped around to look at him, glaring; they had all forgotten why they were there.

"So, we've got this all sorted out, have we?" Lord Voldemort checked quickly. "Are we good? Potter and Loony are dating, the blood-traitor boy and the Mudblood are dating despite their previous tiff, Malfoy loves Weasley, Weasley hates Malfoy… well, I think that's just about cleared up! Are we done?"

The Golden Quarter all started to yell angry retorts. Draco and Ginny were still silent.

The Dark Lord, however, did not wait to hear out the response. "Well, excellent!" he cried gleefully. He pointed his wand tip down at Ginny's heart.

_NO!_

"Avada kedavra!"

"NO!" Draco screamed, louder than the Golden Quarter, Lord Voldemort's laughter, and Ginny's final scream all put together.

There was no rescuing her this time. It was over. Lord Voldemort would win. Everyone on the face of the wizarding world would perish – including beautiful Ginny, who's last words _ever_ were addressed to him, and as such: "I hate you".

The rush of speeding death echoed terribly in the church, and every bad thing, ever scream, every yell of agony that Draco had ever heard, resounded in his head a thousand times. "_I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate I hate you"_-

Then the green light of the Killing Curse was upon Ginny, swallowing her whole. Draco screamed with all his might until he could have sworn he felt his lungs ripping, along with his liver and kidneys and stomach and every other essential organ, and most of all his poor, battered, _heart_.

There was a deafening silence, when nothing happened and not a soul moved. No-one spoke. No-one moved. It was as if time itself had stopped (which it probably had, considering the Stone).

And then the Stone of Montol exploded.

**A/N: **O.M.G. Will Ginny die? Will she ever get to tell Draco she loves him more than anything? Will Draco commit suicide? Will Lord Voldemort apply some more 'dark matters of evil' to his poor chapped lips? Find out soon on The Stone Speaks, BBC TWO.

Don't ask why I chose BBC TWO.


	53. Explosions

**A/N: **This chapter is all magical-y. I feel so.. eh! The Stone Speaks is finished! (This isn't the last chapter. But I've finished writing it). And I feel so eh! And eh! And ehhhh!

Ahem. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty-Three: Explosions**_

_**DRACO**_

_Then the green light of the Killing Curse was upon Ginny, swallowing her whole. Draco screamed with all his might until he could have sworn he felt his lungs ripping, along with his liver and kidneys and stomach and every other essential organ, and most of all his poor, battered, heart._

_And then the Stone of Montol exploded._

…

White.

Pure, powerful, white light blinded Draco.

It stretched across everything, filling the entire room. There was no noise, even when Draco opened his mouth and screamed screamed screamed – all that could be heard was a shallow murmuring, like the veil in the Department of Mysteries that Draco's father had once shown him, like a million whisperings, like the hush of the lapping ocean. It was so serene and so terrifyingly beautiful that it nearly killed Draco.

Tiny shards of razor-sharp stone flew at him, but he felt no pain. The light burned his eyes, scorching the images onto his retinas, but he squinted past it and saw something incredible.

He could see magic.

Peering through the blinding light, Draco saw it all. Hermione, frozen into Ron's shoulder; Ron, clinging to her, his eyes squeezed firmly shut. Harry, his arms flung up in front of his and Luna's eyes; Luna shivering into his chest in slow-motion. Then Ginny, lying flat on the floor; Lord Voldemort, feet away.

And up from the redhead's limp torso twisted the only colour into the entire church – a strange, numinous strand of twining, dancing light, pale silvery-green. It was like watching the Northern Lights, the _Aurora Borealis_, rise up from Ginny's lifeless chest, and watching it…

… drift towards Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord seemed just as affected by the explosion, but he was squinting furiously against the light, red eyes watering and lonely tears crawling down his high, ugly cheekbones. In the equal slow-motion with which everyone near the explosion moved, he was drawing circles with his wand. Faint glimmering trails of magic left behind were now visible.

Draco looked down. Also visible were the strands of thick yellow light surrounding his chest. Now that he could see them, he saw their weaknesses, and their strengths. Letting out a warrior-like roar that did not make a sound as it left his vocal chords, he tore through them, pain burning through his fingers as he touched raw, pure, unharnessed magical power.

Lord Voldemort saw the crackle of the enchantment as Draco started to break through. He smirked, and spoke, his voice echoing, hollow and distant. "It's too late. She is gone. And her power – along with that of the Stone – is going to be mine the instant that it touches the tip of my wand. And then, foolish Malfoy, the world will be mine."

The aura, the magic of Ginny, and the power of the Stone, was the only thing moving quickly – gliding towards the tall, evil man with skin so white that he seemed to blend into the blinding world around him. It was drawing closer and closer to his wand…

Deciding in an instant, Draco shredded the last of his wards – PAIN – and sprinted forwards. He was moving excruciatingly slow, but not of that mattered, because so was Lord Voldemort, and in one sluggish, but fluid movement, he bent…

He curved his fingers around a shard of stained-glass window…

He straightened, still running…

And thrust it into the path of the magic…

And twisted it around to the Dark Lord, gaunt face twisted in horror.

His shoulders were shaking in their sockets as the supernatural green light reflected off of the glass and surged determinedly towards Lord Voldemort. Draco could barely see, the white light combined with the silver-green was deafening – _could your eyes be deafened?_ – and then it hit home.

A tortured scream of absolute agony twisted up and away from Lord Voldemort's mouth. The magic hit him squarely in the chest and was dissolving a black hole. He started to crumble, screaming in agony, his pain echoing terribly a thousand times, and such was the quantity of evil built up in his body over the years, that, faced with something so perfect and pure as the soul of Ginevra Molly Weasley, he actually _caught fire_.

_Now would be the time for a ridiculous quip_, came to Draco's mind, but instead of saying it, or letting a smirk come across his thin lips, he looked sideways.

Ginny.

She was so painfully beautiful, even lying there on the floor, probably dead, and Draco probably soon to join her, that he felt a rush of compassion for her. "Sorry," he whispered. His words made no sound – and if they had, they would most likely have been drowned out by Lord Voldemort's shrieking.

Harry, Ron, Luna, and Hermione were looking up, all partly horrified, partly terrified and partly awed as the epitome of all evil slowly crumbled into flames.

The war was ending.

_PAIN _in his forearm, when the Dark Mark was absolutely _on fire_, burning his skin, what felt like it was _melting _his skin, perhaps to a puddle on the floor. _The Death Eaters are coming._

Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, Draco pulled the stained-glass down, and the rest of Ginny's magic wavered in the air. It disappeared in a swoosh, and then ever so slowly, the white, breathtaking light that had filled the church and – Draco was sure of it – filled the sky… faded away.

Feeling as though he was going to collapse and never wake up, the seventeen-year-old hero staggered backwards, clutching his forearm to try and ease the pain.

"Oh my God, Draco -" came Luna's voice. She was the first to speak, before the shock died down.

Draco turned to answer her. And at that moment, for the second time, in what seemed extremely unfair, the world exploded outwards.

One last horrendous, tortured scream of the utmost pain rang shrilly as Lord Voldemort died, haunting everyone in the wizarding world. Terrible black flames licked the roof of the church, and then darkness spread out like a visible disease.

Everyone was hurled backwards. Where the Golden Quartet went, Draco did not know, but rather suddenly he was thrown backwards, and he had an awareness of crashing through pews and stools and altars. Nothing hurt, however. He came to an abrupt halt, smashing the back of his head against a wall, but made no sound. Past the pain, Draco forced his eyes open, and the last thing he saw was Ginny's lifeless and terrifyingly pale figure before all went dark.

**A/N: **Yes, yes, another short chapter. I'm sorry. I _could_ be swayed into writing a longer one by a review… -smug- Anyway, I hope you liked it. I keep crying writing these. I'm such a sap.


	54. Tears

**A/N: **A sad chapter. Enjoy it. Cry. I know I did. More than once. –guilt-

Ahem. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty-Four: Tears**_

_**DRACO**_

_One last horrendous, tortured scream of the utmost pain rang shrilly as Lord Voldemort died, haunting everyone in the wizarding world. Terrible black flames licked the roof of the church, and then darkness spread out like a visible disease._

_Everyone was hurled backwards. Where the Golden Quartet went, Draco did not know, but rather suddenly he was thrown backwards, and he had an awareness of crashing through pews and stools and altars. Nothing hurt, however. He came to an abrupt halt, smashing the back of his head against a wall, but made no sound. Past the pain, Draco forced his eyes open, and the last thing he saw was Ginny's lifeless and terrifyingly_ pale figure before all went dark.

…

Ow.

Eyes… _open_.

Blue fluttered open. Light. Bright. Ow. Draco squeezed his eyes closed again, before reattempting to unlocking his eyelids from each other.

His hands hurt. He felt thick blood on them – a lot.

The harsh, sudden contrast of light compared to the darkness of the backs of his eyelids from when he had previously been passed out still was sore, but Draco squinted past it.

The sight that met him was astonishing. Had there been some sort of explosion? The church was falling apart, more than ever. The Golden Quartet were distributed oddly around the walls; Harry and Luna, in each other's arms, were in the fall corner; Hermione was up against the wall, curled up tightly in her unconsciousness; and, more peculiarly, above her was Ron. He was halfway up the wall, draped inelegantly over a wooden carved statue of a angel in flight.

The rain was still falling, heavier than ever, but it was evaporating when it hit the wooden-boarded floor, or collecting in puddles around the cooler parts. Spread over the ground was a thin, fine, black sparkly sand that sunk into every nook and crevice. In the heart of it was Ginny, pale, limp, and sprawled out in the thickest area of sand, so that it was sprinkled across her clothes.

Draco's heart lurched painfully. _What happened?_

Suddenly it hit him.

Stone of Montol.

"I hate you."

Explosion.

Raw magic. Blood on his hands.

A piece of stained-glass.

Darkness.

"GINNY!" he shouted, and instantly was sprinting over to her. "Ginny, please, no-" Draco skidded to a halt, hitting a pew – _that's going to bruise in the morning_ - and then he was on his knees beside her.

She looked so small and fragile that it hurt him, and Draco clenched his hands into fists so tight that he felt blood in his palms. "Don't you dare die," he whispered fiercely to her, "or – or I'll never forgive you. I swear." Fighting back angry and grieving tears, he took one of her hands. She was frighteningly cold.

"Wha…?" someone mumbled. "Whazzgoinnon?"

"What happened?" someone else shrieked.

"Why. The _hell_. Am I up on a statue?" Ron's voice said in surprise.

"_Ginny_!"

Hermione levitated Ron down, and, taking his hand, they hurried over. Her wrist was badly broken, and he had terrible scratches all over him. Harry and Luna followed, more slowly – Luna seemed to have a broken leg, and Harry looked extremely stiff. They all crowded around Ginny, looking worriedly down at her.

"Is she alive?" whispered Luna fearfully.

"_Of course she is_!" snarled Draco.

_She's not dead. She can't be. She is alive. Why wouldn't she be?_

_Maybe because the Stone exploded on top of her. I'm surprised that she hasn't been torn to pieces._

_Shut up!_

"Check her pulse," said Harry urgently, turning to Hermione.

She blanched. "H- how?" she asked nervously.

"_Just do it!_" Draco screamed at her. "It's not that freakin' difficult, is it? I thought that you were smart, now – now _do _it!" He grabbed Hermione's hand roughly and pushed it towards Ginny's neck. He would do it himself, but in case she was – _she's __**not**_– he didn't want to be the one to feel the lifeless neck, to feel the total lack of anything throbbing through her veins.

There was a pause.

Then: "I… I can't find anything."

"_Look – harder_!"

Draco felt a lump growing hard in his throat, and he swallowed hard. He stretched forwards one hand, the one not holding Ginny's hand, and curved around her cheek. It was so deathly cold, and still, unmoving. He smoothed the freckled skin, still refusing to cry, and pushed a strand of vibrant red hair behind her perfect little ear.

Suddenly his forearm burned, and he tore his hand away from her, gasping out in a cry of pain. Something felt terribly wrong – not in his heart. In his arm. Harry, Ron, Luna and Hermione were staring at him, wide-eyed. "They're… they're coming," Draco said. "The Death Eaters. I can feel his death – they can, too. They'll be here soon."

They exchanged glances. "What do we do?" Ron asked, speaking for the first time since he had since Ginny. His voice was very choked-sounding.

"We should… we should take her away," Harry decided.

As everyone made murmuring noises of agreement, the main church doors slammed open, creating a gust that swirled the dark sand everywhere; Draco squinted to protect his eyes. There stood the Death Eaters, all looking angry and prepared for war. Each was drenched in blood – their own and belonging to others.

"_It's true_!" shouted Peter Pettigrew, livid, pointing a stubby finger at the black sand. "My – my Lord!"

The Hogwarts army burst in behind the Death Eaters; they had followed. "What's going on – oh my," said McGonagall, who looked as though she might faint. "The… the Dark Lord is _dead_?"

THUD. She went down, and Professor Sprout ducked to heal her.

"MY LORD!" howled Pettigrew. He narrowed his beady brown eyes at the Golden Quartet, Draco, and Ginny. "They have _murdered_ you, nasty vermin, I shall avenge you, I shall kill them all, they will all suffer," he muttered under his breath, very fast.

Harry stood, his face contorted with rage. "There's been enough suffering already," he said darkly. "It's over, Pettigrew. It's all over. You've lost."

"I – have – not!" Pettigrew retorted, flushing red with anger. "We – _will _– not! I SHALL CONQUER ALL! I SHALL AVENGE ALL! I SHALL-"

"Oh, put a sock in it," sneered Dean Thomas, and then green light flew. Pettigrew never finished his sentence. And he never avenged Lord Voldemort.

Hermione gasped. "You-Know-Who is dead… that means – the Death Eaters are easy prey! They cannot defend themselves!" she grinned triumphantly, before pointing her wand at Mulciber's heart and crowing, "ATTACK!"

An echoing, fabulous cry of "_Avada kedavra_!" rang out, and every Death Eater simultaneously fell.

A silence fell, before all broke into cheering. It transformed as Mrs. Weasley shoved her way through the crowd, and screamed, "_Ginny_!"

Almost instantly, the entire Weasley family was crowded around the only girl, crying and shouting and refusing to admit their sister's death.

Harry, and Hermione were swallowed into the mass of tears, but Luna and Draco did not belong. They found themselves on the outside, staring at where they had last seen beautiful Ginny before she was surrounded by an impenetrable wall of family – those who knew and loved her best, excluded.

"It doesn't seem fair, does it?" said Luna softly. She looked up at Draco, tears shining on her face, and seeing her grief so openly expressed nearly made him crack and break down.

He however did not answer, and did not break down. He avoided her gaze. He did not want to talk to anyone – the only person he wanted to talk to, or to be with, at the moment… he could never have again.

Luna, seeing that Draco was a hopeless case, sighed heavily. "I'm going to go and tell Neville about Hannah. I think it should come from me," she said, more to herself than to Draco, and disappeared off into the bustle of people.

Draco stared at the ground. Slowly, the Hogwarts army were pouring past him to marvel at the sand that Lord Voldemort had become, but no-one tried to comfort him. Hardly anyone even acknowledged that he was there.

Finally, at the end of the Hogwarts army, someone stopped in front of him. Draco did not look up. He saw the mini-skirt and the shiny chestnut-coloured hair.

"Sad, isn't it?" Sanchia commented. She reached out for Draco's shoulder, but, unable to take any more, he moved away, hitting her shoulder with his own to send the message he wanted – _get lost_ – and then left the church.

The graveyard was empty. No-one was around for miles, save for two people in the far distance, talking in the town square and looking at the wreckage of the buildings around it. The rain was now positively bucketing down. The weather suited the seventeen-year-old Slytherin fine – it matched his emotions.

"_I rescued you from that god-forsaken castle, and nearly got myself killed for it! And everything that you said, everything that you did, afterwards, was all just a big lie! __**I hate you!**__"_

"No," groaned Draco, kneading his forehead with hands. He couldn't think about that. Before he knew anything else, he found that tears were flowing freely down his face now, encouraging by the rain disguising them. Tears, tears and tears. It filled his head, filled his heart, filled his eyes, and he wanted them all to go away, _now_, and never come back, because if he was empty, then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

Tears.

"_No_…" he sobbed. "_No_…"

**A/N: **Yay! A longer chapter! No! A depressed Draco. He will be donating tearful, but very sexy, hugs to anyone who cares to pay a fee of one review. Going once, going twice…


	55. The War Is Over

**A/N: **Angsty. With a capital A. Believe it.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty-Five: The War Is Over**_

_**DRACO**_

_He did not want to talk to anyone – the only person he wanted to talk to, or to be with, at the moment… he could never have again._

"_No," groaned Draco, kneading his forehead with hands. He couldn't think about that. Before he knew anything else, he found that tears were flowing freely down his face now, encouraging by the rain disguising them. Tears, tears and tears. It filled his head, filled his heart, filled his eyes, and he wanted them all to go away, now, and never come back, because if he was empty, then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much._

"_No…" he sobbed. "No…"_

…

The war was over.

For Draco, on the other hand, it was only just beginning.

It had been a week since what was now known as the Battle of Hogsmeade, and no-one had forgotten it. He doubted that anyone ever would.

At first, everyone had assumed that famous Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had defeated Lord Voldemort again – this time, the last time. Usually this might have infuriated Draco, but he found that he couldn't care less. He neither cared when Harry stood up during his yes-I-saved-the-world-thank-you-for-the-flowers speech, and said, "_I have nothing to say, because I didn't do anything. I was unconscious. I did nothing. The saviour of all of you is Draco Malfoy_," and pointed at him, nor when hordes of girls started clumping around him and fluttering their eyelashes, all Sanchia look- alikes and _act_-alikes too.

Luna had become his spokeswoman, and had stuck up huge posters in every room saying: _DRACO WILL NOT GO OUT WITH YOU. HE IS SPOKEN FOR. MOVE ON._ He should have thanked her, but he didn't. He barely spoke. Everyone assumed it was 'strong and silent' coming into play, but only four living people knew the truth. And three dead.

Neville knew as well. Luna had told him, in an effort to make him feel better about losing Hannah.

The dead. It hurt Draco terribly to even subconsciously think of anything to _do_ with death.

Draco hadn't seen Myrtle in a long time. He suspected that she was very upset, but he couldn't face seeing her, because she'd doubtlessly want to talk about_ her_, and he couldn't – not after he'd seen her die when he could have saved her.

It was breakfast. What was breakfast? Draco couldn't remember. He wandered through to the Entrance Hall. It was gratefully empty, and he sat heavily down on a step halfway up the stairs.

Spring had truly set in. It was March, and the Entrance Hall doors were wide open, so that the fabulous pink-orange sunrise shed its rays into the castle. Its beauty burned Draco's eyes. The windows were open too, so that 'the scent and glory of Spring' could 'float in and heal us all'.

_I bet its just to hide the smell of the dead people._

His heart panged as he thought of Ginny, dead, decaying, and starting to smell – twenty years on, a rotten skeleton, brittle and prone to snapping. He shook the thought away and rested his pointed chin on his knees, looping his arms loosely around his knees.

Deep in thought was Draco when the footsteps approached. He did not lift his head, but he flickered his grey eyes sideways and saw Neville. _Great. Longbottom._

There was a thick and terse silence for a few moments, and then Neville said softly, "You don't have to pretend that you're alone in this, you know."

_I am alone. You have no idea._

"I…" Neville swallowed; his Adam's apple bobbed madly, "I lost Hannah."

_Yes, but you found out that she was dead. You didn't have the opportunity to save her and throw it away. You didn't watch the life leave her body. You didn't hold her dead body in your arms. You didn't… you didn't use her life to kill Lord Voldemort._

"I was going to ask her to marry me, you know," Neville continued, his voice thick. "In the summer. I was going to ask her parents first, and then pop the question. Somewhere in Italy. I know that she liked me, and I liked her too. And – and we did… everything, you know. And we dated. And… now she's passed on."

Draco imagined him and Ginny getting married. He could picture her, laughing, smiling, blushing delicately at obscene comments about the honeymoon, but he could not see himself with her. Then the vision of Ginny turned cold. The imaginary redhead pulled her veil down and disappeared behind it, and then she was gone.

It hurt. Draco shut it away, and stared blankly at his feet.

"Everyone lost somebody," said Neville. "Anchee Salil and Colin Creevey both lost Dennis. Professor Sprout lost Professor Flitwick. Lavender lost Seamus. Terry Boot lost Cho Chang. And then, the younger students that we don't even _know_ – they suffered too."

_Please, shut up._

"It's okay to talk about her, Draco."

_That's Malfoy to you, ignorant fool. I may be a sappy friend-of-Gryffindor but I still detest you._

"D'you miss Ginny?"

_I will rip your head off. How __**dare**__ you say her name._

"I think that-"

"Longbottom!" Draco shouted. He hadn't spoken in ages, and his voice was croaky. He was shaking in anger, and struggled to maintain the tears that he had been fighting all week. "I do not want to talk about… _her_. I never have, and I never will. Especially not to _you_!"

The Gryffindor looked shocked, as did the people who had gathered at the bottom of the stairs and were watching interestedly, wondering what was going on.

_Yes, tell them all my secret, Longbottom. It's all you want, isn't it? To reveal that Draco Malfoy, the fierce, arrogant prat can actually feel. And a hell of a lot, too._

Before Neville could reply, Draco stood, and, with a swoosh of grubby cloak, stormed up the stairs, away from the people gaping after him.

_Where am I going?_

Draco did not know. He decided to go to his Quiet Room. He had created it the day after the Battle, as a place to go and hide when he felt totally alone. Meaning every day, in place of going to class, or making any social contact.

Disappearing down a narrow corridor behind a tapestry, he ran into the last person on earth that he wanted to see.

"Oh," said Sanchia awkwardly.

Silence. He tried to sidle past. He was not here for small-talk, or even to see anyone.

"Hi, Draco," she said.

She was standing in his path. He ignored her.

"I'm… I'm sorry." Sanchia paused nervously. "About Ginny, I mean. I know you and her were friends."

_How little you know._

"You hated her guts," said Draco. He didn't want to speak, but he forced it out, angry as to why, _suddenly_, Sanchia was all sympathy.

Sanchia blushed. "Well, I didn't totally hate her," she said.

"What do you want?" said Draco gruffly. _She has to be here for a reason._

Sanchia reddened further. She seemed to have lost all of her confidence and flirtatious teasing. "Well," she said quietly, "I was… I was just wondering… tomorrow's Hogsmeade night. And I was thinking if maybe, because of everything… you wanted some company?"

Draco was so stunned that he couldn't find anything to say. _I do not believe her._ He could barely _think _anything, let alone speak. Eventually, after a terrible silence during which Sanchia seemed to realize her mistake, he said, "How dare you."

"How dare – what?" she said, looking confused. She was also looking slightly frightened at the lethal expression on the Slytherin's face.

If looks could kill.

Eyes narrowed, lips thinned, grey eyes stormy and tempestuous. At that moment Draco Malfoy was not one to be crossed.

"How _dare_ you," he repeated, his voice cold and dangerously low. "You sick, _sick_ little bitch. It's been a _week._ A week since I saw so many of my friends fall, and perish. A week since _she _was _**murdered**_in front of me. The only person I've ever truly loved. And a week later, _you're asking me out?_ You spiteful cow – you saw her death not as a tragedy… but as a chance to finally grab me, now that she was gone. You…you _disgust _me."

Sanchia looked like she might cry. "Draco, I didn't mean it that way!"

"Who the hell said that you could call me 'Draco'?" he snarled. "Because it certainly wasn't me."

"Please, I just-"

"Listen, Corteza. The only way I would ever willingly go out with you," said Draco, his voice so soft that it was barely audible, and stony hard, "is if you find a miracle way to bring her back. And I doubt it."

Sanchia screwed up her face, and Draco could see that she was struggling not to cry in front of him. "What is it?" she finally cried out. "What is it that's so lovely about silly Ginny Weasley? What does she have that I don't?"

The truth. Maybe if he let it out, Sanchia would stop _stalking _him. He stared down into the Hispanic girl's face. "My heart."

Draco stayed rooted the spot just long enough to see tears well up in her large silver eyes, before stalking past and continuing down the corridor.

**A/N: **Aww. Poor Draco. I don't actually know how it feels to have someone you love die, so I based it on Ryan losing Marissa, from the TV show 'the O.C'. If anyone watches that. I do, I do! Well duh. Anyway. Review, and you get a hug from a depressed Draco, a sad Neville, a dead Ginny, or – this is for you, SilverXan! – a very sexy but still rather depressed Luna.

Don't we just _love_ angst?


	56. Impossible Uncomprehendable Unbreakable

**A/N: **Angsty. With a MAJOR cliffie that is probably the best I have ever written. A few tears. And a very long title. I wasn't going to update yet, but so many people were reviewing and saying was it finished and that they hated me for killing Ginny, so I thought I'd better get this chapter out quick.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty-Six: Impossible Uncomprehendable Unbreakable**_

_**DRACO**_

"_Listen, Corteza. The only way I would ever willingly go out with you," said Draco, his voice so soft that it was barely audible, and stony hard, "is if you find a miracle way to bring her back. And I doubt it."_

_Draco stayed rooted the spot just long enough to see tears well up in her large silver eyes, before stalking past and continuing down the corridor._

…

It hurt. Terribly. Holding a hand to his stomach to fend off the feeling as though he was going to be sick everywhere, Draco sped up until he was racing down the corridor, faster and faster and faster and faster…

He wheeled around the corner – _get to the Quiet Room, get to the Quiet Room_ – but it was too far, and, looking briefly at the door to it, some way away down the passageway, he grabbed at the wall for support, and then keeled over and vomited spectacularly on the floor.

When his stomach felt empty, Draco waved his wand weakly ("_Scourigify_," he muttered), and staggered down to the door. He reached it, but for some reason couldn't find the strength to open it. He couldn't even find the strength to take hold of the door handle.

Instead, he let out a hollow moan and slumped against, sliding down and hunching up in front of it, sitting and generally feeling sorry for himself.

_I have to talk to someone. Or I'm going to die._

_Luna?_ Draco couldn't face her.

_Myrtle?_ Draco sighed. It was better than Luna.

He sat for a few seconds, allowing time to let his muscles gather some energy, and then hauled himself to his feet, before trudging out of a sidedoor. Draco saw a flare of Hogwarts-uniform skirt, shorter than standard, and a whoosh of chestnut hair; heard a sob as the skirt-and-hair headed towards the library; but he continued regardless. He could be guilty about his shouting later.

_Why should I be guilty? She's a tactless, insensitive slag. I don't give a damn. And what I said was one-hundred percent true._

Draco would have held his head high in his decision, but he was so used now to skulking everywhere in the background that this high-head-holding instinct disappeared without any hesitation. He instead hurried faster to the second-floor girls' bathroom.

When he arrived, he felt strangely as though he might be trespassing, and so (first checking that no-one was around to tell him off, or laugh at him, or send him off to St. Mungoe's for knocking on an abandoned bathroom door) he rapped his knuckles lightly on the worn wood.

No-one responded, but there was a faint wail from inside.

Summon courage? None left. He stepped through ."Myrtle?" he asked quietly. Pause. "I knocked."

_Why'd you say that? You shouldn't have to knock anyway._

There was a moment's wait before a small head sticks out. Despite the fact that Myrtle's appearance can't change due to her death, she _had _changed. Her deep, round glasses were lopsided, and one lens has a thin crack. Her pale skin is smeared with tears, and her thick, dark hair is coming loose of its neat ponytails.

"Oh," said Myrtle, "hello. Have you finally decided to come and let me know?"

Now Draco felt guilty. He didn't say sorry, however.

"I thought you'd have rushed up here immediately and told me that you conquered the Dark Lord, but _no_, that's not how you work, apparently," Myrtle sneered. "Neither's Ginny." She frowned.

"_I used her life_!" screamed Draco.

Myrtle's dark eyes widened. "Wait – what?"

Feeling his heart crack again, he collapsed onto his backside and hid his face in his hands. "Oh, God, you don't even know, do you?" he moaned. Feeling tears threaten to leak out from under his eyelids, Draco squeezed his eyes closed.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, very tightly. "You used whose life?" Myrtle demanded.

Draco removed his hands from his face. He kept his eyes closed until he let out a sigh, and then he opened them, saying, "She's dead. Because… partly because of me. She could have come back. She could have stayed alive. But her life was the only thing that I could use to destroy Lord Voldemort. So I did."

"She… Draco, who's 'she'?" Myrtle's voice was terrified now.

He didn't answer.

"Oh my God. Not… not _Ginny_?" Myrtle shrieked.

Silence.

"You… you killed Ginny." Her voice was flat, disbelieving, and absolutely horrified.

"What, do you think it was easy for me?" yelled Draco. "Do you think it was easy? She's my best friend – for Christ's sake, I _love _her. More than anything. And I had to make a decision in three seconds. Less than that, probably. I had to choose. Ginny… or the entire world. I couldn't have both."

Now the tears came.

"Myrtle, you don't know what that's like," Draco whispered.

Still the fifteen-year-old ghost did not respond.

"Say something," Draco begged. "I can't lose both of you. Please, don't hate me – say something!"

She took a deep breath. "Ginny promised me – she _swore_ – she _vowed_ – that we'd be together forever," Myrtle said softly. "She said that when she died, she'd become a ghost, so that we could always be friends."

…what? Draco didn't understand. His face was blank. "What's that got to do with anything? That doesn't really _matter_, does it?" he said flatly.

Myrtle finally looked up. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. Then, very slowly, she explained. "Draco. She _vowed. _The Unbreakable Vow."

_I still don't understand!_ "What does this have to do with any of this?" Draco cried. "This isn't helping!"

_Am I that thick? What __**is**__ it?_

Deep breath. Another deep breath. "The Unbreakable Vow, Draco… is unbreakable. Ginny couldn't break it. It's physically impossible to break. She _has _to become a ghost when she dies. She can't pass on."

Slowly, so slowly that it was agonizing, Draco started to comprehend what Myrtle was getting at.

"Oh my God."

"Ginny's not a ghost," said Myrtle.

Lifeless dark-brown eyes and steel-grey eyes collided together across the girls' bathroom as they both understood what was going on.

"She isn't dead."

**A/N: **OMG! CLIFFIE ALERT! That, I reckon, is my best cliffie yet. I don't actually check these before posting them (apart from VERY rarely) so if someone wanted to beta me, I'd be eternally grateful.

And YOU thought she was gone!


	57. Dare To Breathe

**A/N: **This chapter brings tears to my eyes. Sniffle. I find that the powers of tears are really brought out if you listen to Trust Me by The Fray while you read. Sniffle. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty-Seven: Dare To Breathe**_

_**DRACO**_

_Deep breath. Another deep breath. "The Unbreakable Vow, Draco… is unbreakable. Ginny couldn't break it. It's physically impossible to break. She has to become a ghost when she dies. She can't pass on."_

_Slowly, so slowly that it was agonizing, Draco started to comprehend what Myrtle was getting at. "Oh my God."_

"_She isn't dead."_

…

For a few seconds, Draco was numb. Myrtle's words echoed again and again and again through his seemingly hollow brain. He was staring blankly straight ahead. He didn't dare breathe. He didn't dare let his heart pulse. He didn't dare to hope.

Screw it.

Slam through the doors, crossing the bathroom so fast and disappearing through the exit that it seemed as though he had Apparated. In an instant, Draco was tearing through the halls. Myrtle was floating after him – she wasn't weighed down, and she didn't need to turn corners, but she was actually struggling to keep up with the Slytherin.

Never had anything been so important in his life, but never had his legs felt so leaded. He ran faster, faster, pumping his legs, and wishing that the Slytherin Quidditch team had kept him on so that he'd be in better shape. Hope and dread clung to his heart, battling each other, and his hands were clammy.

Ginny.

Ginny.

She was all that mattered.

And probably all that would _ever_ matter.

Veering around the corner, and suddenly, there was Sanchia. She was walking in the opposite direction, and she stared into his eyes, but Draco didn't see her. He barrelled past her, and hurried up the stairs.

Myrtle followed a few steps behind. "Sorry," she said apologetically to the upset and wounded-looking Sanchia. "You know how they get." Then she zoomed after the tall, desperate boy halfway up the stairs.

SLAM.

Draco barged into the Hospital Wing doors. Locked.

His ghost companion caught up. "Draco, don't do anything silly. Be subtle – we're basically breaking into a mausoleum!" she hissed, glancing back down the stairs.

"CONFRINGO!" he yelled, and the doors blew up.

Myrtle sighed, rolling her eyes. "Subtle."

After the Battle, it had been transformed. It was where the dead were kept, until their families could take them away and have them buried or cremated (or even stuffed. Ew). Many were in the Forest under special protection, for they were either in such bad condition that they could contaminate everything, or needed to be identified after they had been… pulled to pieces. Or half-eaten.

Hundreds of beds had been conjured up and squashed together to fit one of the deceased on each bed, for respect, and a few mattresses were outside in the hallway, for any live students who were hurt during the stay of the dead. Curtains were drawn around each, and little signs were posted, to say who they were.

Gratefully, the Weasleys could not afford a funeral, and were getting all of their savings put together to organize it, so _she _would still be there.

_Thank God they're not rich, or they'd have laid her to rest already, and she'd be buried alive._

Draco stopped, and walked through the Hospital Wing. Partly out of respect, and also because he was scared.

Seriously.

Alone, in a room full of dead people, in a room that's supposed to be locked, that no-one will check for days… and no-one knows that you're missing?

_Well, Sanchia knows. But I shouted at her, so she'd probably just abandon me up here for spite._

The Slytherin moved faster, glancing around sharply at every shadow… but they were all his own. For no-one in this room would ever move again.

_Apart from __**her**_.

His heart skipped several beats, and he put a long-fingered, cold hand to his chest, to remind it to keep going. Draco scanned the little signs.

_Creevey, Dennis._

_Daniel, Oliver._

_Doone, Magenta._

_Edgar, Emma._

_Felton, Rupert._

_Finnagan, Seamus._

_Flitwick, Herbert._

No. Keep going. Draco broke into a jog, fishing his wand from the pockets of the jeans that he had not removed for days. He held it tight, and continued.

_Urseme, Calib._

_Veldred, Palmer._

_Verona, Alice._

_Wimble, Shawn._

_**Weasley, Ginevra.**_

Feeling his heart beat ten times faster, Draco slowed; he stepped sideways, into the tiny gap between her bed and the next one. The curtains rustled. Pushing back fear, he pocketed his wand (Myrtle held hers steady), and drew the gauze curtains back.

Unsure what he was expecting, Draco cringed… and then he saw her.

Even if a drifting, odd state between life and death, she was the most stunning thing he'd ever seen. Her heart-shaped face was paler than usual, paler even than in the church, so that her freckles stood out. Her eyelashes were losing colour, and her once-bright hair was dulling. She was blanketed, but her arms were free, over the duvet. It almost looked as though she was merely sleeping.

"Oh, Ginny," Draco whispered. There she was. His best friend. His love. His everything. He stood there beside her, watching her in the soft rays of the morning sun. He kept expected her eyelashes to flutter, her lips to move, as she intook breath or twitched in her Dreamland, but of course… she didn't.

No longer caring that he was surrounded by dead people, nor that he may be about to hold the hand of a dead girl – _she's alive_, Draco said firmly to himself – he reached out and curled his fingers around hers.

Sighing heavily, he knelt… on something sharp and painful. "Ow," he muttered. He released Ginny's hand and looked down, moving his knee sideways. He was about to nudge it further under the bed, but stopped. Why was a book here? Madam Pomfrey had totally emptied the Hospital Wing, so why was this book an exception?

Draco pulled it out. It was strangely free of dust, which was also strange. It looked very old, however, and the front cover was titled in Runes.

_I can't read Runes… oh well_.

He was lowering back to the floor again when Myrtle spoke. "Ye Anciente Curses."

A quizzical look crossed Draco's features. "What?"

"That's what the book says."

Draco eyes narrowed as his brain worked. "Maybe..." he said quietly. "Maybe…"

Then his grey eyes picked out a bookmark – a slip of white paper – wedged between the pages. His brow furrowing, he opened the book to that page. The bookmark was not a bookmark; it was a note.

Squinting in the poor light, Draco read it aloud.

_Hello, Draco. I know that you'd find this. Well, __**I**__ found __**this**__. It will help, trust me. And if you doubt what you read on this page, behind the Runes… don't. I have seen it, and I know what it looks like._

_Love always, Sanchia xx_

_PS. I don't need you to back up on the Hogsmeade offer. I'm happy just knowing I made someone's life worth living._

Myrtle and Draco exchanged glances. Draco's glance said: 'what was that about?" and Myrtle's said: 'try reading the page she marked, stupid'.

Nodding, he removed the paper, folding it into his pocket, and then held up the page for Myrtle to translate. She waved her wand at it, murmuring words that Draco did not know, and the Runes rearranged themselves into English letters.

"Thanks," mumbled Draco, focusing more on what the words now said. He read:

'_Tis one the most powerful things ever discovered. 'Tis a magik of its owne, and 'tis like nothinge else. 'Tis love. If betweene two persons expressed is nothinge but pure, perfecte love, then anythinge is possible. It has been seen few times to achieve greate things. Deathe is nothinge compared to what has only been seene twice in thee Wizardinge Worlde. If thee love is pure and perfecte, anythinge can be saved through an exchange of love's truest purpose. 'Twas discovered by a Muggle, many years ago._

_Through love's truest exchange, thou can meddle with deathe, but beest thou love not pure enough, deathe is ensured. Be ye warned._

Silence.

"So, did you actually understand any of that?" Draco quipped, though he understood perfectly. His mouth was extremely dry. Basically, it all came down to love. If they loved each other perfectly, Ginny would be fine. If not, then they would both perish.

_Tough choice._

"You understood perfectly," responded Myrtle coolly.

_Damn. Why do I have to be friends with people who can read me so well?_

"Er." Draco scratched the back of his neck nervously. He looked down at the terribly small, thin girl in the bed, and sighed. "Perhaps," he murmured.

Myrtle, too, sighed. "Draco… what do you have to lose?" she asked softly. "If you do, and you fail, then – I guess you'll both die. If you don't, she'll die… and you… you, loving her, may as well be dead. Your first love never really goes away."

The lump in Draco's throat was back. He swallowed past it. He wanted so badly to have Ginny alive again, but he was scared of dying. After a few seconds (through which Draco wondered why he had run so fast when he would come only to waste time), he said quietly, "How?"

His friend frowned. "What? How what?"

Again he swallowed. "How… do I…" he glanced at the book, the words of which were slowly transforming back into Runes, "…_exchange love's truest purpose_?"

"Okay. Say you're in love with someone. How do you show them?" asked Myrtle, tilting her head sideways and fixing her glasses absently.

Confusion swarmed in Draco. "Er. Tell them?" he guessed weakly.

She folded her arms. "I said, _show_ them, not _tell_ them." She paused. "The magic was discovered by Muggles. Do you know the Muggle fairytales? Sleeping Beauty – put to sleep. Snow White – poisoned. Rapunzel's boyfriend – torn by brambles. All survived. How?"

One… two… three…

"Oh, hell no." Draco tried to backtrack. "What if… what if people come in? And they see me with a dead person? And what if she wakes up?"

"I thought you wanted to her to wake up!"

"_I do_!" Draco cried. "I just… it wouldn't work, anyway," he said darkly. "She hates me."

Myrtle raised an eyebrow.

"She does, believe me. They were her last words. '_I hate you_'. And then – and then she was gone," Draco muttered.

The ghost smirked. "You'd be surprised."

_Why do I get the feeling that she knows something I don't?_

"Do it, Draco."

His breath was very fast in his chest, and seemed to be having difficulty coming out of his mouth. He moved the book away, dropping it behind him, and, ignoring the bang that it made, stepped closer to the bed.

_Hello. How are you today? Dead? Okay, that works._

Draco twined his fingers through hers, and then he rested his legs against the side of the bed.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in breathe out breatheinbreatheoutbreathe – _don't you dare start hyperventilating_!

He moved his other hand to her face, curving his hand around her cheek, before sliding under to the back of her neck, tilting her limp, slightly pointed chin up towards. Disregarding his fluttering heart, Draco leant down… further… further…

Their faces were only separated by a tiny space of oxygen and total fear, and then Draco closed it. He bent over her, pressing his cheek close to hers, feeling tears come, and holding what would probably be the last memory he could have of Ginny.

Then he kissed her.

**A/N: **Wow! Another decent cliffie. I know, I know, it was kind of obvious that it was going to be love that had the possibility to save her. I couldn't decide whether to name this Dare To Breathe or His Everything. If you review, please give me your opinion. Anyway. Review review review!

Haha. I liked the line: 'how are you today? Dead? Okay, that works'. Hah. It cracked me up. Anyway. REVIEW! DO IT. NOW.


	58. Perhaps

**A/N: **This chapter brings tears to my eyes. Really. So many tears I nearly drown in them. So if you're a sensitive sap like me (who is on the verge of crying just writing the Author's Note and thinking about this chapter) I suggest you have a box of tissues ready. And, also, I find that this chapter is much improved if it is read while you listen to Rose, by The Feeling.

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty-Eight: Perhaps**_

_**DRACO**_

_The lump in Draco's throat was back. He swallowed past it. He wanted so badly to have Ginny alive again, but he was scared of dying. After a few seconds (through which Draco wondered why he had run so fast when he would come only to waste time), he said quietly, "How? How… do I…" he glanced at the book, the words of which were slowly transforming back into Runes, "…exchange love's truest purpose?"_

_Their lips were only separated by a tiny space of oxygen and total fear, and then Draco closed it. He bent over her, pressing his face close to hers, feeling tears come, and holding what would probably be the last memory he could have of Ginny. Then he kissed her._

…

BANG.

The Hospital Wing doors flew open, and Draco heard the weeping, and the sulking, and the voices and heard the footsteps drawing closer, and knew instantly that they were the Weasleys.

Panic flooded through him as they drew closer, and he tried to pull away from Ginny, but he couldn't – he _couldn't_ – just leave her and never see her again… and then he realized that he was being ridiculous, and he pulled his face back… he was stuck.

"_Ginny_!"

The Weasleys had arrived.

_Shit. I have been found snogging their dead daughter. Oh, shit almighty._

Draco pulled back, the fabulous and tender moment severed, and he stared, wide-eyed, up at the tear-stricken family around him.

"_Get the bloody hell away from my daughter_!" Mr. Weasley screamed, absolute fury and distress edging every syllable.

Unable to find words, Draco nodded hastily. He looked around. Fred and George looked as though they were ready to kill someone; Percy had an I-could-have-you-arrested-for-that look in his eyes; Bill and Charlie looked ditto to the Weasley twins… Draco searched for Ron's face, looking frantically for anything who could help him, understand what was going on. However, Ron merely wore a look of shock and betrayal.

"I think it's time to go," said Myrtle sheepishly, coughing delicately and making an okay-bad-timing-let's-go face at the Slytherin.

"Yes, I think so, too," said Mr. Weasley angrily, trying to comfort his swooning wife.

Draco nodded again. "I'm… I'm sorry," he mumbled feebly. "I really am. I'll just… go."

His heart was collapsing all over again. It hadn't worked. She was dead. She would never come back. She was… gone…

Budging past the Weasleys awkwardly, he fought back a sob, but let the tears come silently. He made his way, crying quietly, towards the door, and was halfway through the gloomy ward when he heard it.

Tiny, frail, and very familiar.

Small, weak, and as though it could fail at any moment.

Fragile, slightly cracked and _feminine_.

A voice.

"Draco?"

He froze. No. It was impossible. It was sheer, bloody _impossible_. Slowly, he turned.

The Weasleys gasped. "_GINNY_!" they shouted, and suddenly they were around her, holding her and kissing her and sobbing hysterically.

A waterfall of emotions swirled through Draco. She was… alive. As impossible as it seemed. But she hated him. And he loved her. And she was alive, _alive, __**alive**_! He nodded for the third time, and turned away. He continued down the corridor, tears streaking down his pale face unchecked, but was stopped.

"Draco?"

"No, darling, sweetie, it's okay, he didn't hurt you, love, he's gone."

"Oh my God, Ginny, you're alive!"

"…Draco?" she repeated, her voice a tiny whisper.

"Darling, it's alright, he's gone-"

"Mum, shut up!" Ron suddenly said. "Let her speak."

The seventeen-year-old stood perfectly still. Not a muscle moved, though something twitched in his jaw. Every ounce of his being was directed towards listening to whatever Ginny was about to say.

"I… Draco…?" she whispered.

Mr. Weasley cleared her throat. "Er. Malfoy?" he said uncertainly. "It… er, seems that Ginny wants to speak to you."

All eyes were upon him as Draco turned and walked back towards the bed – Mrs. Weasley's brown, the males' blue… and _her _beautiful hazel. He stopped beside the bed, and looked nervously down at his feet. Ron, sensing the mood, ushered his reluctant family away. Draco shot the redhead male a grateful look, before returning his eyes to his shoes.

He took a breath to fill his suddenly cramped and crushed lungs. Finally, after what seemed like days, Draco said softly, "Hello," and lifted his gaze onto her pale, weak face.

Ginny was watching him with an odd look on her face – something tender and unreadable. It tugged at Draco's heart. _This is who I would have destroyed. I would have disregarded her to save the world. Would I do it again? I have no idea._

She leant back in her bed, against her icy-cold cushion. "What… happen…ed?" she said, her voice fragile. "I don't… remember… what…" her words trailed away.

"The Dark – You-Know – He-Who -" Draco took another breath. "_Voldemort_," he forced out curtly, "is dead."

Her eyes widened slightly. They were all that remained the same after a week of being dead, all that was still beautiful, but Draco couldn't meet them. It was like staring into the sun, and he didn't want to be blind.

"Did… Harry?" she whispered.

"…No." Draco stuck his hands into his pockets. "I did."

Further her eyes widened. The Slytherin glanced into them, before staring at the side of the bed again. "How?" she asked tiredly.

_I used __**you**_ "It doesn't matter," said Draco quietly. _I never want to have to let her know. But I will. When she's better._

Ginny nodded, but the gesture seemed to cause her pain. "I'm… sorry," she said after a few seconds.

Now Draco's eyes widened. "Why?"

"For nearly… getting… you… dead… killed…" every word was separate for the redhead, and she looked at Draco, imploring him to understand.

_Trust me. It's nothing. I __**did**__ get you killed. I think we're a little more than even._

Draco lowered his head to stare at the ground. "S'okay. I suppose it was revenge for me and the whole… trying to kill you thing."

"_I hate you I hate you I hate you"_

As if Ginny was reading his thoughts, she said gently, "I'm sorry as well… for… saying… hate…"

_She doesn't hate me?_

Silence.

Clearing his throat, Draco said softly, "I really thought that you were…"

"It wasn't… my… time…" said Ginny weakly. A tired smile fluttered up onto her lips. "I refuse… to pass on… before… I… finish… my duties…"

"What 'duties'?" asked Draco.

Ginny was looking at him. "Normal things… kill Dark Lord… graduate… tell you sorry… tell you…" she cut herself off.

Heart beating fast, Draco said, "Tell me what?"

She laughed nervously. "Oh… the usual…" she paused, and seemed to be summoning courage before she looked up at him and said, "You know… like… the fact that I think… I've been… in love with you… my entire…life?"

Heart. Frozen. In. Chest.

Hit it now, or you'll probably drop dead in front of her.

Gone numb.

Did she actually say anything, or did your brain just go into overdrive?

Yes, I think she did say something.

What did she say?

_That she loves you_.

"Oh," said Draco. He looked up, the tiniest of smiles quirking up his lips. He met her eyes, warm hazel and hard grey – no. Soft blue – melting into each other, "Is that so?"

Ginny's eyes sparkled, and colour was flushing back into her gaunt cheeks. "Yes, and now that the message is across, I think I'm ready to die," she teased, lolling her head back.

"Don't you dare!" Draco said, moving closer and holding her head back. "I've been through enough for you."

"Hmm," said Ginny, and – did he imagine it? – her grey-brown hair seemed to glitter redder and redder by the second, "I suppose you have." She tilted her head sideways, as if thinking. "Come here," she said softly.

Draco, almost instinct, slipped his hand into hers as he stepped towards her. "Mm?" he said, raising one slim, white-blonde eyebrow.

She, with a slight struggle due to lack of strength, reached up, twined her arms around Draco's skinny neck and then, looking straight up into his face, murmured gently, "Can I kiss you?"

"Perhaps," Draco replied, and then brought his head down to hers. Their noses touched, and he smiled down before closing the gap between their lips.

And something broken felt whole again.

**A/N: **AW. Don't give up on me yet, my lovely reviewers. There's ONE MORE CHAPTER. And I'm considering writing an alternate ending… But I might not. I hope you've enjoyed the ride so far – just hold on! ONE MORE MILE TO GO! Review review review!

I need help on this chapter's name as well. I was torn between Frozen (when he said that his heart was frozen in his chest), Miracle (because Ginny survived) or Perhaps (because of that last dialogue). I was originally going to use Miracle, but I thought that killed the suspense because it immediately told you that Ginny pulled through. What do YOU think?


	59. The End

**A/N: **LAST CHAPTER! Ohmigod, this is so weird to actually finish it. Wow. This chapter is very short – I didn't actually need it, so you don't HAVE to read this chapter. I just felt that I left too much hanging on, like what happened with everyone else. Enjoy – The Stone Speaks: Finale.

**ATTENTION: Yes, it has been brought to my notice that I bought Percy back from the dead. –hem- All part of the master plan, folks. Though I have now changed it to Snapey.**

**Disclaimer:** I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

**The Stone Speaks**

_**Chapter Fifty-Nine: The End**_

_**GINNY**_

_She, with a slight struggle due to lack of strength, reached up, twined her arms around Draco's skinny neck and then, looking straight up into his face, murmured gently, "Can I kiss you?"_

"_Perhaps," Draco replied, and then brought his head down to hers. Their noses touched, and he smiled down before closing the gap between their lips. And something broken felt whole again._

…

A month had passed. Draco was eighteen; Ginny, still sixteen. Professor Snape disapproved of their year-and-half age difference, as well as of the inter-house relationship, but who gave a damn what _he _thought?

Draco had found Sanchia the day after what became known as the Sleeping Beauty Morning (Myrtle coined the phrase. Ginny tutted, "bloody _typical_") and asked her to Hogsmeade, as his promise went – even though the village was destroyed. She smiled and said yes, and surprised everyone by inviting Neville, so Ginny declared it a double-date and she joined in.

Neville and Sanchia got on like a house on fire, despite their different personalities – if ever you went anywhere near the greenhouses in your free-time, you'd come to see the sight of a mud-splattered couple, working side by side with various plants.

Harry hired Ginny for a portrait – of himself, offering a golden ring and a bouquet of clematis ("what were her favourite flowers again, Ginny?" Harry asked worriedly) to a beautiful blonde woman. He was planning to ask Mr. Lovegood's permission over the summer, and then pop the question next Christmas, under the mistletoe (Ginny rolled her eyes at the sentimentality, while Harry scorned her, "details, details, Ginny!).

The fiery Gryffindor princess and the cool Slytherin prince became the It Couple, to the horror of both, and many teenage girls were found sulking and throwing darts at corkboards that looked suspiciously like a redhead girl.

A _mandatory_ after-class club was formed where students traipsed down to Hogsmeade to help heal the little village that had protected Hogwarts. The first thing fixed was the Hog's Head, and butterbeers were a necessity.

And almost everyone was generally happy.

Ginny Weasley, now fully recovered, wandered down to the Black Lake. The squid bobbed lazily just under the surface of the water, allowing a cluster of first-years to bravely poke its tentacles. It was a beautiful day, and she, after having murder attempted on her three times in one day, had decided to live life to its fullest.

She dropped down lightly under the branches of a willow next to the Lake, resting against its trunk. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and basked in the sun rays dancing off of the Lake, and was almost asleep when something hit her lap softly.

Eyes snapping open, Ginny looked down to see a small, pretty, pink cyclamen, freshly cut. A smile graced her lips, and she called, "Thank you!"

A blonde head dropped in front of her, upside down, and grinning; hanging precariously from a willow branch. "Hello," he chirped.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Draco, you're supposed to do that when its _raining_," she teased, raising one slim auburn eyebrow. "Get it right."

"I was close enough, wasn't I?" Draco asked, pouting. "Anyway," he said in a mystical voice, and waved his hands, "_pretend_!"

The redhead shook her head. "I'm a terrible actor," she said in a sad, little-girl-lost voice. She fluttered her cinnamon eyelashes hopefully at the male in front of her.

"Then," said Draco, with a grin plastered across his features, "I think its time you took drama classes." He twirled the little pink flower stem between his thumb and index finger.

With a groan, Ginny threw her hands into the air. "_Again _with the metaphors!" she complained. "Will you just shut up and _kiss _me?"

So he did.

**THE END**

**A/N: It's OVER! I can't believe it! Sorry for such a short chapter. I wanted this to finish on Chapter Sixty, a nice even number, but I couldn't stretch it out any further. Whaddaya think – Neville and Sanchia, eh? I just couldn't bear to leave a heartbroken Neville all by himself, and I was like '**_**who can he date'**_** and then I thought '**_**SANCHIA**_**'! So there you go.**

**I want to thank SO many people! I want to thank everyone who ever reviewed me! I want to thank Mechanical Pencil 0.5, for being the first person to review me (you can go and check if you want). I want to thank fic-princess and bestdreamer for being there practically since Chapter One. I want to thank DancingOnTheGrave and SilverXan for being my amazing fanfiction buddies! And I want to thank all of you who cried when you read this, because I cried, and if none of you did I'm going to be cross.**

**I would also like to add that I have published a humour one-shot named Boredom (on request for DancingOnTheGrave) and if you're bored and need a laugh, that's were you can go.**

**ALSO, my next fic is already in progress. It is a Ginny-Tom Riddle fic, named The Letter P, so if you want you can put me on Story Alert, so that you know when I start publishing it. Or not. Whatever.**

**Thank you to all of you, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. –HUG-**


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